


Hot summer nights, mid July when you and I were forever wild

by Void (EroEmo)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bittersweet, Childhood Friends, Dancing Lessons, Dealing with Emotions, Fluff, Getting Together, Getting to Know Each Other, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pen Pals, Period-Typical Slang, Separate Childhoods, Separation Anxiety, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stargazing, Teenagers, Young Love, specific tags/warnings to be added at the beginning of each chapter, ~ 2000 - ~2016
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 00:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7198319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EroEmo/pseuds/Void
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is just a lower-class kid from Brooklyn. No friends, too much free time and his mother's decision result in him spending two weeks on a summer camp. Bullies, loneliness... Despite clearer air everything is the same.<br/>Would something change? And if yes, for how long? Summer doesn't last forever, after all...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He had hope. That maybe, just maybe, this time would be different. That there was a slight chance for him. Probably there had been but he, as always, was too weak to take it. It always had been like that, since the very beginning. Too sick to go outside, too weak to help his mom with anything, too emaciated to be considered worth attention from peers. Nothing had changed since he had learnt how to speak and so there he was. Standing by the field, watching kids playing, laughing, rapidly catching their breaths as they were running after each other with smiles on their faces and just. having fun. He couldn’t be a part of that pretty picture, his lungs were too weak, they always had been.

Deep inside he knew it would look like that but he hadn’t had a heart to say it right into his Ma’s  face. She had been working so hard to make it possible for him, to go on this summer camp and still. He had that dumb hope somewhere in him. That maybe this time would be different. That maybe this time he would have a good time.

Skinny legs moved on their own, taking him as far from the cheerful crowd as possible. Apparently he was more done watching others having good time than he had supposed because in no time was he sitting under a pine, head buried in slender hands. No, he was not going to cry. What was even a point of that? Tears like that, caused by miserable clutch in his asthmatic chest were worth no more than a single handful of dust. He had no intention in sitting there and letting his face get awfully red. He just… needed a place to stay for a while. As far from unachievable paradise as possible.

Wasn’t it what he was doing his whole life, though? Staying away from elusive joy, trying to spend time by doing as much good as possible? Yeah, he was getting in trouble more often than not but. Broken noses and bleeding knuckles were worth an awareness that maybe, just maybe, his effort had changed something. In someone, somewhere deep inside. Not to mention those were the only situations when he wasn’t invisible to people. Everyone treated him either as air or a goat. Nothing in between. He was used to this, though. That was probably why he didn’t care that much when despite new environment everything stayed exactly the same. No one seemed to notice tiny blond kid with asthma until he tried to prove local bullies he had leftovers of pride.

Speaking of which… It looked like he was not alone anymore.

“Hey, look! It’s our favorite punching bag Rogers!”

Different place, different people and yet bullies remained all the same. What an irony.

“Why don’t you come and play a little with us, huh?” a leader, as he supposed, was standing just in front of him, looking down at him with those green eyes full of violent sparkles. A predator. And apparently, he was his pray.

Nothing new.

“I have better things to do” answer blunt, legs shaky as he stood up. It didn’t matter as he still was shorter than them. Small. Vulnerable.

“Oh, really?” a smirk on bully’s face and fist in his stomach. “The thing is… I don’t really believe you, Rogers” a kick in his shank, oxygen suddenly out of his sick lungs.

Malicious laughs all around him as world was spinning faster and faster with each punch, air filling and leaving his lungs way to quickly, everything making him dizzy and woozy. It didn’t stop him from raising his little fists one more time, trying to at least defend himself. Solid kick into his stomach, fist on his right cheek and suddenly he felt solid ground under his head, something warm coursing slowly down his temple. Blood? Sweat? Maybe both?

Before his vision went completely black he managed to tilted his dumb head a little bit so just he could see that bunch of bullies, laughing at his powerless body left on the dry soil. He felt like snapping something back, he always was better with words anyways, but his mouth was not longer under his control. It was completely numb just as most of his tiny body which in no time slipped into blissful unconsciousness.

 

A wooden ceiling was a first thing he noticed after waking up. A golden light flickering on old wood, making it look more valuable and worthy than it probably was in reality. That simple fact, the presence of something so trivial above him, made him realize he was no longer under that pine where he had been, as always, beaten up. A counselor had to notice his absence or maybe another camp worker went for a walk and found him, he had no clue. Either way he ended up in one of numerous log cabins… in a weirdly clean and sterile bed. Nurse’s room, then… That or counselors had impressively high housing conditions.

“Oh, you are finally awake” a harsh voice resonated in a small room, convincing him that his first bet was a correct one. No one at the whole camp sounded as pissed and done as a nurse Maggie. “What this time? Tripped over roots, run into tree or maybe you came up with a new convincing story?”

He liked her because she didn’t ask, she didn’t dig deeper to know the truth. Maggie cared for his well-being as it was her job but she didn’t feel responsible for finding out the source of his frequent visits nor in making him speak honestly. He usually said it was an accident or his stupid reckless behavior what was somehow true to some extent. It sounded reasonable enough so she gave him anodyne pills, a few patches and let rest for some time. One time she had such a good mood she even made him a tea.

“Let’s say some things don’t change” he sighed resignedly, trying to sit up. A sharp stab of pain in his stomach and head successfully stopped him, making him sigh once again but this time with tinge of exasperation.

“You are for sure the most troublesome kid I’ve seen so far, Steven” Maggie admitted bluntly, looking at him with those cold tired eyes of her. It made him smile. She wasn’t the first person he heard saying that.

Twelve years sounded as nothing but for him it was all his life. A whole lifetime of hearing he had been basically looking for troubles, not even trying to stay away from them. He had never tried and probably would never try to deny that as most of things he considered right resulted in so called “troubles”.

As soon as his insides stopped aching that much he thanked Maggie for her care, as usual. Little hand reaching for handle and tiny body ready to left, when that always annoyed voice reached his ears:

“You should thank that kid who brought you here” body frozen in shock, head slowly turning to see nurse’s face. It wasn’t an adult who had found him? Just a peer? Someone actually _noticed_ him and, what’s more surprising, decided to _help_ him?

“Do you know him, Miss?” a gentle question directed to that fifty-or-so years old woman, heart beating a little bit faster due to a sudden excitement. Apparently hope wasn’t as dead as he had thought.

“I wonder who _doesn’t_ know him, Steven” Maggie’s mouth twisted in a half-smile like shape, a wiry hand opening a drawer only to take mint cigarettes out of it. “I bet his name was James”

 

Merely three days of the camp and he already had managed to get into fights four times, visit old Maggie five and embarrass himself in front of roommates from his cabin. And yet there was this mysterious kid who either didn’t know him that well and that’s why he helped him or he hadn’t had a bully-like nature. He honestly prayed for that second option because really, spending two weeks in the woods and being beaten up on a daily basis just because didn’t sound as a nice entertainment. Nevertheless, a perspective of sitting all by himself and watching other kids having fun without him was making everything even worse so… Yeah, the idea of having a pal even for a week appeared as a piece of Heaven in comparison to his current state.

Sun had already set when he reached his log cabin, weak light painting everything in those pleasant blues. He liked that camp, it was relatively quiet and peaceful. No loud streets, suffocating smoke or that damp air, so harmful to his lungs. Instead he had plenty of free space and since no one really bothered to look after him there was a calming forest whenever he needed to disappear for whatever reason. Another advantage was a private small lake and even though he swam in it only once it was refreshing and actually beneficial for his health. If there were no bullies he would consider this place his personal paradise, a safe house of some kind.

Unfortunately life, especially _his_ life, tended to put the skids under him. Almost every single person amongst his peers was strong, mean or just bigger. Most of them openly mocked and beat him or innocuously teased when in a better mood. He had no idea how it happened but the worst bullies had decided he was a perfect victim for them within two first hours of the camp. Till today he had even earned a few nicknames, for example “favorite punching bag” or amazingly brilliant “triflin’ soft”. However, a tiny little opportunity for a getaway from that hell appeared and he had no intention in missing it.

He had to clean himself up first, though. Besides, it was evening already. A chance to find that certain boy called James after dinner and before lights-out sounded impossible. Tomorrow seemed just as good to start his little search and it wasn’t like he had exciting plans for the rest of that camp anyway… Until now. “Finding James” officially showed up in his short yet succinct mental list – right after “avoiding asthma’s triggers” and “not giving up in front of bullies”.

Floppy blond hair of his disappeared in the bathroom, only to show up much cleaner and less messy a few minutes later. His roommates didn’t ask about new patches or scratches on his face and knuckles, he doubted they even dared to actually acknowledge his existence. They were ignoring him, treating like a plague. Maybe there was a seed of truth in that, maybe he actually was one. Who was friends with a victim became victim themselves and apparently no one seemed dumb enough to try to challenge that statement.

All of his cabin headed to the commons just as the rest of the camp. He had no hope for spending that time cheerfully, he just wished he would be able to find a corner big enough to sit there and eat in silence, not being bothered by anyone.

Life showed him once again it knew better.

In no time after reaching lonesome spot did his blue eyes noticed someone coming closer to him with oddly peppy steps. He thought he must be hallucinating or something but then a mysterious person spoke joyfully:

“Hey, may I join?”

“Um, are you sure about that?” doubt in his voice way too easy to catch, yet he moved to make a place for the other.

“Yea, I’m sure” he answered with bright smile, willingly sitting down next to him. It was probably the first time someone was close to him _of their own free will._ It sounded almost surreal even to his vivid imagination. “Hey, you straight?”

Such a sudden change of mood stopped a fork halfway through its way to his mouth, meet sauce dripping onto a plate. Why he sounded so worried out of the blue? It made him feel even weirder, such a care only heard in his Ma’s voice before…

“…Yes, why?”

“You looked horribly mauled before and I was fretting about it, all…” sorry expression on his face, body language insinuating he was feeling… coy? “I felt worried and I wanted to check on you” Something clicked inside his head, a metaphorical bright light bulb popping out above his head.

“It was you!” mouth working faster than his brain, letting words out before he thought them through. “I mean... You brought me to Maggie, right?” a simple nod as an answer made his heart skip a beat or two. “Why?”

“Why I helped a jacked up kid?” one eyebrow raised on a question mark, half smile showing up on his face. “Man, that was clean. How _couldn’t_ I?” voice so sure of those words, as if it was one of the most obvious things in the world, to help him. “I’m Jimmy”

He had to blink a few times to convince himself it was not a dream, that his stupid brain wasn’t making fun of him and that whole situation was real. That someone actually was eager to put trust in that tiny body of his and, you know, try to be his friend. He almost felt unworthy of such treatment.

“Steve” shaky hand reached out to a steady one, tentative smile slowly showing up on his scratched face.

The rest of a dinner went rather peacefully, occasional shouts from the other side of the commons signalizing the presence of other campers. They didn’t bother him though. It was probably the first time he actually thought of them as somehow enjoyable. Everything thanks to Jimmy who lighten up that dark and gloomy existence of his. Funny, how one person could change an entire point of view with just… being there.

Dinner time passed surprisingly nice and way too quick for him so when Jimmy stood up and said goodbye, that not so tiny heart of his shattered. He was not prepared for such a quick loss, even if only temporary. Befriending someone couldn’t be listed as an easy thing in his case and watching a possible friend walking away broke something inside his sick body. He was alone. Again. This time it felt even worse than before so he headed to his cabin as soon as possible, avoiding everyone’s eyes and hoping deep inside those beating pieces that maybe, just maybe, they would meet tomorrow.

Eleven days. He had entire eleven days to show his true self and earn a friend. Almost two weeks to prove himself he actually deserved someone like a homey. Falling asleep had never been mixed with such an excitement and anxiety.

There was a chance.

There was a hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang meaning:  
> triflin’= pathetic  
> you straight? = are you all right?  
> jack you up = to beat the crap out of someone  
> that was clean = that was righteous  
> homey = buddy
> 
> I just need to tell I have no idea how long this story is gonna be nor how it will end. It lives on its own and I don't want to shackle it. I want it to be free and fun to write so sorry in advance if you expected something entirely different.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: resembling dissociation feelings and thoughts, kids' violence (Steve is bullied, after all)
> 
> That's all, enjoy!

His mind was wandering through the endless forest of possibilities, looking for the worst scenarios. Jimmy making fun of him for actually believing he had helped him because he had felt like it. Doing something embarrassing in front of Jimmy which resulted in him being disgusted. Jimmy saying it was a bet and walking away. Everything going well but then bullies approach ~~ed~~ them and Jimmy decides he wasn’t worth his help and all he can do is watching him coming back to the camp.

His imagination was quite vivid but when it had to deal with negative thoughts and depicting them, it was far beyond that. It became wild, unstoppable and incredibly suggestive. He often run away into the world of his own creations but when in stress, his head was betraying him, showing incredibly realistic images, making him question what was real and what had never actually happened. Sometimes it was really difficult, to distinguish false memories from actual ones. How much easier it was, to believe in even negatively embellished pictures than deal with grey and lackluster truth.

Nevertheless, even his own mind hadn’t predicted what life prepared for him.

Breakfast came and passed, nothing extraordinary had happened. As usual. Socializing event turned out to be singing songs this time and he didn’t mind that. In comparison to previous integrating games and dodge ball this one was harmless. Pleasant, even. He could sit somewhere far away from his tormentors and search for a freshly befriended boy with those blue eyes of his at the same time. Accomplishing that task when in a small hall alongside with more than fifty perky children was much more complicated than he had thought. However, two hours passed in the blink of an eye and if that was a regular day of his, he would have headed to forest with a sketchbook just to avoid those nasty kids and do something more creative than staring at the wooden wall in a cabin.

It wasn’t such a day.

This time he wandered around the camp, looking for Jimmy. He had approximately two hours to find him and even though he didn’t quite know what he was about to say, he felt it was the only right thing to do. Maybe he should thank him? He didn’t do that yesterday and his Ma always taught him to be polite.

“Am I dreaming or is that our precious blond shrimp?” body petrified, shivers going down his spine. Of course those douche bags would spot him. They always did, no matter how hard he had tried to remain invisible.

He slowly turned around on his heel, small fists clenched on his sides. Only then did he notice where his lanky legs had led him. Tennis court. He hadn’t really bothered to visit this particular place before but now, when looking around, he knew he was doomed. A bunch of girls sitting peacefully under trees’ shadow and them. No adults, no other campers. Just great.

“How is that I haven’t seen you around here before, huh?” a tinge of inauspiciousness, that well-known smirk and all he was praying right then was a miracle. Not a guardian out of nowhere but maybe not broken bones or mild kicks. They seemed to be in a good mood so there was a slight chance he might actually end up conscious this time.

He was fairly aware he was weak and that odds for his success were around zero. It was obvious for him since he had been six. The thing was, however, not to give those folks any satisfaction. He would end up beaten up anyway so at least he could save face. Remain proud and brave in hopeless situations.

Tiny sparking stars showed up before his eyes as one of the bullies punched him right into his sternum. His stomach squeezed painfully as a big hand hit right into fresh bruises, knees suddenly weak and ground an inch from his teary eyes. He didn’t want to cry but his body was betraying him once again. Small hands curled tightly around blue and purple ribs, most of mind focused on inhaling and exhaling, even though fighting or running away were his priorities.

“You know, right now you look like a squirrel” the leader said playfully, squatting next to his feeble body. “How about we check if you are one?”

Muscles tensed as they grabbed him by arms, hopelessly trying to get away from those unmerciful grips. They were dragging him anyway, leading to the nearest tree with branches convenient enough to shin up. One of them, he didn’t bother to notice which one, climbed onto it and with ~~a~~ help from the rest of his group in no time was his gaunt body being hanged. One leg freely moving in air while the other one was painfully stretched, laces from leaky sneakers tightly tied on a branch. He probably looked funny like that, an upturned hanged man resembling a skeleton more than the living person.

His head slowly started to scream for help, blood rushing into it and blurring his vision, unpleasant pressure inside his ears, skin warmer and warmer with each passing second. Bullies were laughing but soon enough they found him boring and eventually left, leaving him at least two meters above the solid ground.

He had three options. One was the most obvious and that meant screaming for help. He was more than sure it was useless as counselors weren’t around and other campers where simply ignoring his existence. Second one was wiggling and whirling, trying to break the branch. Easier said than done, his body weighed as much as nothing so it would probably take a whole day to achieve this. They probably chose a solid ramification, too. That fact was not helpful.  And here he was, choosing the last option left. His abdomen muscles were way too weak to let him bow like that and just untie laces so all he could do was kicking his tied foot with the free one. After a dozen of kicks and scratching his own ankle he was free. Horrible pain in his back and right leg, yes, but he was no longer hanging. He would never say it out loud but, surprisingly, owning too big shoes could actually be a blessing sometimes.

After his blood returned to its usual circulation, Steve headed up to his cabin, tottering along for the first few minutes. In that moment he really couldn’t care less about walking with only one shoe - the searing pain in his ankle was much more immersive. Besides, if he wasn’t mistaken it was already swimming time and as much as he disliked corporate activities, this one was fairly close to his heart.

Quick change of clothes in an already empty cabin and before one could say knife was he standing amongst the rest of the campers, waiting impatiently to jump into the lake. Today was sunny and warm, no wind to cool them down and that meant anticipation. After one of counselors counted them a well-known whistle echoed in the summer air, loud cheering following right after. Then there was nothing more than joyful screaming, laughing and ubiquitous splashes.

See, maybe he was prone to basically any sickness and his body was overall too fragile to allow him taking part in many games but swimming was one of those few activities he actually could, or maybe even should do. It was beneficial to his health and he found it quite entertaining. Counselors sitting on the shore and watching them was another factor which made swimming great. As long as he stayed near the pier and let himself be seen, there was no chance the bullies could come and get him. Lake during those early afternoon hours was probably one of the safest place for him. He could _actually rest,_ let himself relax a bit. Finally.

The scratched ankle didn’t let him forget about itself but cold water eased the pain, taking away every unpleasant sensation from all over his haggard body. Soon enough there was nothing left beside delight of being somehow detached from his own self, vision blurry and crystal clear by turns as he let himself dive ad then lay on his back, watching white fluffy clouds on a blue blue summer sky. One of counselors probably had took a radio with themselves because behind all those jolly shouts music could be heard.

“ _Cause I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby”_ a vocalist sang, guitars playing loudly as he continued. “ _Yeah, I’m just a teenage dirtbag baby. Listen to Iron Maiden maybe with me_ ”

He had heard it before dozens of times, it apparently was a hit or something. He neither liked it nor minded it much. It just… was out there, just as thousands of other songs. However, a phrase ‘teenage dirtbag’ described his person quite accurately. Maybe he wasn’t a proper teen yet but he couldn’t call himself a carefree child either. He was closer to the first term anyway.

Two hours passed in the blink of an eye and everybody had to leave and get themselves prepared for lunch. So did he, even though it meant no less than facing bullies sooner or later. He was highly convinced they would get him today at least one more time because, let’s be real, he had no luck in this matter.

Just as he put his last pair of shoes on the inevitable fate hit him right into bruised back. Quite literally, actually.

“Chris, you were right! This softy is a squirrel!” one of boys snorted, making three others laugh as well.

Chris, apparently the leader, tightened his grip on an attenuate shoulder, making his face twitch. He wasn’t even allowed to get himself dressed at the cabin log, was he?

“I told ya!” a smirk appearing on his face, small dark eyes focused on his, unfortunately, well visible body. Oh, how much he would give to remain invisible to those guys… “We saw you swimmin’ today, Rogers” tinge of maleficent intentions, smile broader on his icky face. “I bet you’re related to bream as well”

All of those mean comments were incredibly lame in his opinion but it didn’t stop his spine from shivering and fingers from trembling. A familiar feeling of slowly growing fear clutched his chest, lungs suddenly begging for more oxygen even though he wasn’t having an asthma attack. Not yet, at least.

Nasty smile-like shapes showing up on others’ faces, a silent scream dwelling deep down his throat. He didn’t really wanted to think about what was awaiting him, what those folks had prepared for him this time.

“Fish don’t need legs so how about tying them? I’m curious how much of bream you have in your veins, you tiny soft” all he could do was either running away or fighting. Three boys were efficiently blocking his escape route and he knew he would be thrown into water before he could even manage to raise his fists so he was just. Standing there and. Looking into those piggy eyes with all courage he had left within that bruised body of his.

“Hey!” a sudden interruption breaking that direful atmosphere, making all bullies focus on an approaching newcomer. His heart skipped a heartbeat when he realized who was coming. “Pick on someone your own size!”

None of four bullies had expected such a statement nor the surprisingly quick and strong thrust. They didn’t even have time to fully realize what had just happened when Jimmy took his hand and started to run. His lungs were aching, blood rushing to his head and feet moving out of habit, brain not really wondering where they were going.

Jimmy rescued him. He had come out of nowhere and saved his neck. He hadn’t even _dared_ to imagine such a scenario before but here they were, running so fast he was barely managing to not trip over his own feet, letting that thought sink in.

Eventually they stopped on the merge of the woods where bushes were overgrowing the path. His lungs basically screaming for oxygen, eyes blinking rapidly, slender arms on shaky knees to calm his flabby body down. Ears catching heavy panting on his right, meaning Jimmy was still there and that the whole situation wasn’t just his imagination. God, he’d just been _rescued._

“Wha-“ a deep breath and another try. “What was that?”

The other boy lifted his head, looked at his puzzled face and answered so sincerely and innocently it almost sounded surreal. “Saving you from troubles”

“Why?” an unexpected tinge of disbelief in his voice, a delicate breeze reminding him he was standing in front of his savior and a possible friend only in swimming trunks and ratty sneakers. Great.

“I’ve told ya the last time, remember?” a half-smile showed up on his face, eyes sparkling with tenderness and something mischievous. “No one deserves to be bullied”

Tears welled up in those blue eyes for no reason, a shadow of grateful smile on his face. What had he done to deserve meeting someone so kind?

“I.. I don’t know what to say” bizarre giggle choking in his throat, eyes blinking to keep tears aback. He had been searching for Jimmy a whole morning and it ended up in him being hanged on a tree. And then, when he wasn’t even thinking about him, he appeared out of the blue and risked his own self to get him out of there… A tiny realization went through his brain like a lightning bolt. “I’m sorry”

“Huh? Why?”

“Now they gonna chase after you as well” a sorry expression, voice shaky as that obvious fact hit him. _What had he done?_

“Nah, I’m fine pal” a friendly pat on his shoulder, kind look on his face. Jimmy was standing incredibly close now and, to his own surprise, he noticed how marvelous his eyes were. Icy blues and yet so so far away from being cold and distant. “I care more about you being safe from them than me being slightly beaten because of that”

Only then did he notice Jimmy glancing all over his body, probably focusing on numerous bruises and scratches, not to mention protruding ribs and pale skin itself… Calling him walking skeleton was probably not so far away from the truth.

He harrumphed, looking straight into those crystals, trying to make them focus on something different than his emaciated body.

“Thank you” voice weak yet firm, eyes filled with honesty and gratitude. “For everything, really.”

“No need, bud” tenderness sparkling inside crystals, mouth smiling with some kind of fondness. “I think I gotta stick with you from now on.”

“Okay… Wait, what?” brows furrowed, invisible yet discernible question mark above his head.

“I haven’t seen much but they seem to love mocking you and I can’t let them jack you up like that” he said bluntly, so sure of his own words it made Steve amazed. “From now on you can consider me your shadow, Steve” beam on his face apparently infectious as in no time his own mouth quirked into a smile-like shape.

“You’re my personal garda now?”

“Security guard James Buchanan Barnes at your service, sir” a dramatic bow and he was laughing like he hadn’t since a beginning of the camp.

“Buchanan? Really?” he managed to say after a while, his stomach letting him now it didn’t stop being bruised.

“Shut up, I don’t like it either” quick roll of icy eyes, waving this topic aside in a twinkling. “How about visiting Maggie? Maybe she will give you patches or something…”

“I’m good” a smooth lie said with an innocent smile, voice steady. “I’d rather put some clothes on”

“Oh, okay” a sorry smile in response, hand scratching the back of the dark head. “So… see you later, I guess? By commons?”

“Aiight” a firm nod at Jimmy and he was slowly heading his cabin, praying silently not to be noticed by anyone, especially not by Chris and his friends. Bumping into them, especially after the incident on the pier, was like a death sentence. Maybe not literally but graphically close enough.

 

Fifteen minutes later and he was approaching the commons, blue eyes impatiently looking for dark messy hair. They succeeded quite quickly as Jimmy was the only person in the room as everybody else had already eaten their lunch and gone to the field or their cabins.

“Here” an arm stretched in his direction, hand carefully holding a sandwich. “I guess you’re hungry” his mouth didn’t even have a chance to answer as his stomach grumbled loudly, his cheeks flushing and Jimmy chuckling.

Steve took the food from him with a thankful smile on his face and sat down next to Jimmy, taking a bite. He had no idea how Barnes had managed to make him a sandwich and eat himself within a quarter but he didn’t really have a head to think about that right then. He was too preoccupied with filling his disloyal paunch.

“What do you wanna do?” Jimmy asked after he was done eating. “I guess you’re not into basketball? I haven’t seen you on the field even once”

“They used to go there” voice somehow blank, not need for him to specify who he had meant by _they,_ he knew Jimmy would understand this one. “Besides, I’m not good at those. And my lungs are killing me while playing” A puzzled look at his direction, waiting for an explanation. “I’ve got asthma”

“Oh” eyebrows raised, throat cleared. “So what you tend to do on afternoons?”

“I wander around the forest, read books, draw things…” he shrugged, knowing how lame it sounded. But what he was supposed to say? There weren’t even that many things he could come up with even if he tried to lie.

“Wait, you _draw?”_   eyes twice as big, voice filled with an unexpected excitement.

“Um, yes? A bit. I’m not good, though” shoulders shrugged again, eyes focused on a wooden table they were sitting by.

“Show me!” cheery exclamation and Jimmy was already standing, waiting for him to follow.

He was not sure what to do with as till today no one had seemed so enthusiastic about art, leaving the fact it was _his completely messy and unprofessional_ art aside. Everyone used to tell him drawing was for little kids or a girl thing, not even trying to pay attention to his sketches. He didn’t mind that because he genuinely liked doing that. Leaving grey lines on paper, creating a whole new world with something as simple as graphite. And now not only was someone not discouraging him but even appeared to be truly interested.

Today was evidently a day full of surprises.

Eventually his legs made a decision on their own because he didn’t remember standing up and heading to his cabin, Barnes willingly following him. Oh well, there was no return from there, was it? He entered the crowded room, making steps careful enough to not damage his roommates’ property. Then he was sitting on his bed in the corner and Jimmy right next to him, hands gently taking a sketchbook from his own.

“As I said, I’m not good” eyes avoiding looking to the right, focusing on one wall or another. A silence settled over them and it almost started to feel uncomfortable. Almost.

“Are you bunk?” blue eyes shifted from staring blankly at nothing only to meet an intensive gaze of icy blues. “These are _hella great_!”

He was ready to argue on that but. He hadn’t ever seen Jimmy so in awe, heck, he hadn’t seen _anyone_ in such state of amazement. It simply brought him up short, that view. What’s more, Barnes was the first person who wasn’t his Ma who complimented his drawings. It was… nice. Heartwarming. Encouraging to keep going.

“Hey, how about doing that?” voice lively and loud enough to bring him back to earth.

“What do you mean?”

“I used to draw myself, I actually doodle from time to time. How about going somewhere nice and calm and draw till dinner?” blue eyes widened in surprise, vocal chords trying to remember how to work.

“You’re serious about that?” he finally managed to say, hands slightly trembling but this time from excitement and not fear. “Really?”

“Yeah” he nodded and in no time were they strolling arm to arm down the path, steps peppy and smiles on their faces.

He knew a really nice place for sketching and even though Jimmy was skeptical at the beginning, he changed his mind later on. He wasn’t surprised because everyone would feel that way if they were entering a dark thick forest. However, he was wandering over this place long enough to find a few nice spots and that one where they were currently sitting in was one of his favorites.

A tiny glade surrounded with bushes and tall pines seemed almost surreal with all those daises and clovers. There was enough place for two people to lay comfortably stretched on the grass and look on the blue sky above them. That was not the plan, though. They came there to draw. What was funnier to sketch than oddly grown trees, moss-covered trunks and stones all around them? It was a nice thing to start with, at least in his opinion. Jimmy didn’t seem to mind, too.

Each found a suitable spot and position to draw and then there was nothing more than warm summer air, friendly atmosphere and wood’s whisper between them. There was something magical in that particular moment and as soon as he lifted his head to peek at Jimmy, he instantly changed his mind. He knew _exactly_ what he should be sketching.

 

“Steve?” a quiet question occurred, making him stop drawing “May I see?”

“Um, sure” he mindlessly handed his sketch and only seconds after did he realized what he had just done, cold sweat suddenly on his back, shiver going down his spine. “Um, wait-“

“Is this me?” a hollow-like voice asked him, his lungs forgetting how to inhale. A whole world started to spin, dizziness annoyingly settling inside his head. His brain clearly forgot how to speak because all he could do was making a single nod. “May I keep it?”

Oh. He didn’t expected _that._

 _“_ If you want to” mouth finally remembering how to articulate words, head still kind of woozy. “Aren’t you, I don’t know, mad at me? For drawing you?”

“What? Of course not!” Jimmy snapped, waving his hand as he spoke. “It’s beautiful, Steve”

His cheeks flushed, body betraying him once again. Today was so wild and full of zingers he barely managed to remain steady. His mind nine kinds of absent, each limb seemingly detached from the rest. It was a miracle he hadn’t fallen into pieces yet because he definitely was feeling like it.

They slowly gathered their belongings and headed back to the camp as dinner wouldn’t be waiting for them and, speaking the truth, their insides were ready to eat themselves if not fed. He didn’t mind that feeling. It was probably the only thing that was constantly reminding him that he was alive and it was not a dream of his lonesome mind.

“Jimmy doesn’t suit you, ya know” mind abruptly back from its journey, alarming the rest of his body.

“You think so?” tone casual and light, just as if it wasn’t a weird thing to say. Another surprise, huh. “Anything in your mind?”

Steve started to wonder about it. Did he really have anything? He had to, considering the fact he had just started this topic without a single reflection.

And then it hit him.

“Bucky”

“Bucky?” Jimmy didn’t sound convinced but he saw his mouth moving voicelessly, as if it was trying this word out, chewing on it and tasting it. “Bucky, huh… So let it be, then”

Both of them smiling and rushing to the commons, trying not to trip over bushes, branches and oddly shaped stones on their way back. It was a new feeling to him, to actually have somebody to call by a nickname. To, as every single signs from heavens and earth were telling him, have an actual friend.

A personal security guard.

A friend.

Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang:  
> Garda = security guard/guardian (it's Irish as far as I know so)  
> Aiight = alright
> 
> Song used in this chapter is good old:  
> Wheatus - Teenage Dirtbag
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO ASS-HUGE THANK YOU TO [MY FRIEND](https://twitter.com/sapereauso) WHO DID BETA, YOU'RE AMAZING PAL


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, drowning, brief dissociation

The first thing which was awaiting him that morning was a cloudy sky. Nothing unusual since the thing with weather was it tended to change all the time. One day was warm and sunny and the next one was all gloomy and cold. Just the charm of nature. However, it was _his_ life and nothing in it happened ‘just because’. Every single thing was usually foreshadowing something and by this time he should have realized that, engraved it somewhere in his mind and heart even.

But, of course, he didn’t connect threatening sky and air with anything in particular. His mind was too preoccupied with upcoming breakfast and spending the whole day together with Bucky afterwards. Steve literally couldn’t care less about his surroundings that day, not when he finally, _finally,_ found somebody he could call his friend. It was a completely new experience in his horribly short life and really, who was he to resist such a temptation - to forget about all problems and struggles and just go with a flow of happy thoughts…

Breakfast itself didn’t notably count as an exciting nor anticipated part of a Steve’s daily routine. He was merely eating a small bowl of cereal or a sandwich when he was actually hungry. Other campers considered that time a nice way to start their day, an opportunity to sit down with friends and plan ahead. Basically until yesterday he didn’t know what it could feel like, to slate his day with someone.

Today, however, he was enjoying his meal with a smile on his face and all of that was thanks to Barnes, who _accidentally_ happened to be sitting right next to him. They weren’t talking much but it didn’t matter. Bucky was there and that was all he needed then – to feel he was not alone, that there was somebody willing to spend their time with him.

“Any plans for today?” Bucky accosted, mouth full of cinnamon-flavored cereals so his question sounded more like _aphy-phlahs-foph-thoday._ It made Steve smile.

“Not really. You?” a shook of the dark head in response, mouth emptied and stuffed again in no time. “What are you up to?”

Kids were shouting and laughing in that indolent manner where their bodies were fully awake but minds were still begging for a few more minutes of refreshing sleep. Some campers seemed to be snoozing, even. Nevertheless, Steve wasn’t paying much attention to the other people as, well, he in essence didn’t exist to them. What was the point of caring about them when no one bothered to even _admit_ he was around? The only person who had dared to notice him and actually cared was Bucky and that’s why all of his attention was focused on him, waiting for an answer to previously asked question.

“I’ll probably go to these morning classes to kill time but I dunno what next”

“Would you mind if I joined you?” voice quiet, uncertainty echoing.

“Nah, no need to ask me ‘bout such stuff, Steve” a tender smile on Barnes’ face accompanied by that reassuring look of his icy blues instantly made him feel a bit less anxious.

“What’s today? Singing day?” tone of his voice a bit lighter, a subtle change of the topic to keep their chat alive.

“I hope so” Bucky shrugged, finishing his breakfast and setting an empty bowl aside. “I mean, I wouldn’t mind drawing” a quick wink at Steve’s direction with a sly smile on his face, “but singing sounds better for today” a simple nod at the doors, implying he was talking about that gloomy weather.

He had to agree with Bucky. Singing some dumb but at the same time cheery songs was a much more funnier idea than drawing. It could brighten their day while sketching could easily do the exact opposite. Jolly songs, no matter how silly or old, were a better time killers than observing bleak nature around them.

“How about we go for a walk afterwards?” Steve offered, finishing his poorly looking sandwich. “I know a few nice places in that forest” a coy smile on his face, his mind surprised he actually had brought himself to propose such a thing to the new friend of his.

Bucky didn’t seem offended nor disgusted, just positively surprised.

“I’m down with that” he couldn’t resist smiling a bit, seeing Bucky beaming like that. He had no idea what caused such a reaction, it was just a simple and definitely not dope idea and yet Barnes seemed crunk.

They left commons, taking surprisingly peppy steps to the biggest and therefore main cabin log at the camp. A really nice thing about this place was that it allowed campers to decide whether they wanted to spend their mornings taking part in organized activities or just do something entirely else. Counselors were spread all over the camp, making sure no one hurt themselves or did something stupid or possibly dangerous. Of course they couldn’t be everywhere so that gap was willingly took over by bullies who were constantly leaping at any given chance.

Nonetheless, while just being by Bucky’s side, Steve was _finally_ feeling safe and his mind wasn’t bothered by negative thoughts of any danger, possibly waitingright behind the nearest corner to get him. It was genuinely refreshing and he really wouldn’t mind getting used to it.

As they had thought today was singing day so two entire hours of their time were quickly eaten by flabbergastingly fly songs. Their counselors couldn’t be older than twenty years old and apparently they had thought campers are too mature for cheesy songs so they had prepared something slightly different. In the end they were singing _We will rock you, Over the Hills and Far Away_ and _Tiny Dancer._ Younger fellows seemed to have some problems at the beginning but in the end everyone looked content, they eventually were even clapping for those super extraordinary dudes.

Sky above their heads remained all gloomy and drab, clouds maybe even darker than before. It spelled rain, you could basically feel it coming in your bones but they didn’t care. Or, at least, pretended not to. Bucky was all curious about those places his little friend wanted to show him and even a downpour couldn’t probably stifle that flame of enthusiasm. Steve appreciated that.

Fate decided to remind him that nothing in his short life was meaningful by making him and Bucky bump straight onto Chris and his group. Maybe not literally but in no time were they spotted and in that exact moment everything fell through.

“Oh my, look who we got here” seamy smile on that round face, a firm grip on his puny shoulder before he could register what was even happening. “Our favorite punching bag and Mr. “pick on someone your own size”, how fortunate.”

Neither of them was even able to say a single word before bullies surrounded them, two for each one of them. Bucky was about to react when one of Chris’ friends dealt a solid blow to him, making him shut his mouth, lungs ejecting air with worrisome speed.

“Chill, we have so much planned for you two and if you thought it’s gonna be easy to run away then I’ve got surprise for you” Chris smiled again, tightening his grip on Steve’s shoulder, making it hurt even more.

He was speechless. Most of his insides wanted to scream, run straight into Bucky’s direction and help him or at least try to do so but both of his legs remained still, vocal chords silent. Nothing was going right, every single cell of his tiny body was betraying him, letting the bully decide what to do and what not to. His mind resembled a chopped pile of unknown sticky substance, thinking was troublesome and tiresome, taking definitely too much time. His reactions were slowed down, everything suddenly looked like a dream. Neither that beautiful and colorful one nor gruesome nightmare of some kind. It was that weird, somehow painfully realistic dream kept in grayscale. You had troubles to tell apart whether it actually was dream or not, which was only making everything worse.

Chris and his fellows grabbed them and dragged to one of the cabins, pungent smell attacking Steve’s nostrils and bringing his wandering mind back to earth. When he realized where they were he instantly regretted being so conscious and wished he could stay detached from his own body.

“Let’s start with classics” the leader announced, watching his fellows bringing Bucky’s head to a lavatory. He was really brave, driving back with all of his will and strength. It took them quite a while to actually shower him in that stinky water. Steve hadn’t had so much luck as he was overall weaker than his friend; it was much easier for Chris and his company to make him wet and smell like urine.

“What now?” one of Bucky’s ‘holder’ asked, kicking him in a shank for trying to escape. “Piñata or barrels?” Steve wasn’t sure if he really wanted to know what those could possibly mean.

“There is too little nasty stuff for barrels so piñata!” Chris announced happily, an awful smirk accompanying his statement.

They tried to run away but it seemed as if the bullies were well prepared for every possible move from them. Kicking? Solid punch in the guts. Moving rapidly to make at least one limb free? Painful kick in the shin or other sensitive place. As far as Steve would love to remain optimistic and hopeful, everything looked unfavorably.

In no time did they get to know what was hiding behind an innocent name of a torture. In Steve’s opinion it should be called _punching bag_ instead of _piñata_ but if it was widely used by other bullies then it could make sense. If a poor victim had any cash left the original name would be suitable but in his and Bucky’s case it was nothing more than tightly tying them, hanging on a solid tree and punching for fun. It surely was a marvelously entertaining activity for Chris and his friends but for them it was a threshold of hell.

Hit after hit, punch after punch, bullies waiting for sweets that wouldn’t fall out of their bruised and already aching bodies. Steve had no clue how long was that grotesque play going, the reassuring touch of Bucky’s hand the only thing stopping him from screaming and probably crying as well. It was unfair that such an amazing person like Barnes was going through literal hell and for what? For him? For a fragile, asthmatic kid with no decent character traits? For a problematic punching bag? He wasn’t worth such ~~a~~ dedication. He was more than convinced that when all of this torture ended, Bucky would leave without a single positive word in his direction. It was the only possible outcome, everything else sounded too surreal to happen.

He didn’t notice when bullies untied them and started to drag around the camp again, he was too preoccupied in his own mind. Only then did he realize what was actually happening when his face met a solid, slightly muddy, ground.

“Hey!” Bucky tried to escape once again but his attempt resulted in failure. Steve was in awe how much strength was left in his friend’s body.

“Easy, Barnes” one of bullies said casually, wrenching Bucky’s arm as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly Steve was on his feet again, watching as Chris’ friends started to beat Bucky up. It was unfair, two healthy boys on an already weakened one, blood dripping on the ground. If Steve thought he had already imagined the worst nightmare possible, reality would clear that simple thing for him right then.

“Last time you insisted on picking on someone my own size” Chris stated, looking at half conscious Bucky, who was barely standing on his legs. “There is no worthy opponent for me but luckily for you, my two buddies are exactly your size. Funny, isn’t it?” that creepy smile on his face again, fellows continuing their torture just as their leader took a step back to watch.

That was enough. Steve really had had enough. Of all of it. Of being beaten up, of watching others being treated the same horrible way as he had been since he could remember. A slight loosen of grip on his arm and there he was, running straight into the fight. He wasn’t thinking nor hoping for the win, he only wanted to show all of those damn devils he still could rise his bony fists against them, that he was not passive.

Everyone seemed surprised as he jumped on one of the bullies’ back, trying to buy some time for Bucky to… Fight back? Run away? Scream for help? He wasn’t sure himself but it didn’t matter in the end. His bruised back hit the ground in the blink of an eye, air leaving his lungs with an enormous speed and making the world around him spin.

He barely could understand what everyone was saying around him, gray sky the only thing he seemed to be focused on. Someone grabbed his arm , put on his unsteady feet and without a single warning tied his laces together. He wasn’t sure how but when he tried to move his hands those were already tied as well. It took him a minute or two to spot Bucky in the exact same situation but in much worse state. Scrapped knees, arm and face, bruises all over his body and blood dripping down his chin looked horrible and made something clutch inside Steve’s tiny chest.

“Let’s check if you two are related to breams” someone, probably Chris, stated and then there was nothing but cold around them, slimy algae closing in and covering already dim light of the surface.

Water was pushing his little body from all possible directions, prickle each scrap, sore and gush, trying to fill his weak lungs up. He started to kick and move in panic, being sure he would just die there with Bucky… No, he needed to calm down, even though every inch of his body was screaming for a tiny bit of oxygen, making everything double as hard.

Leftovers of the rational side of his mind ordered his limbs to move as if they were tail, a sudden memory of seeing butterfly stroke live. His body had very little strength left but fear of drowning appeared to be an amazing kind of fuel, making him reach the surface despite the lack of air. He took deep breath as he came up, head turning rapidly and looking for Bucky. He was nowhere to be seen but to Steve’s relief he showed up a moment later, panting as if he had just run a marathon.

Without saying a word they reached the shore, puffing and trying to untie their hands and legs. After almost drowning it was hella harder than it would probably be under normal circumstances. Nevertheless, after a few tries both of them were finally free. Beaten up, slightly bleeding and soaked to the bone but free.

“What sick bastards” Bucky managed to say, smearing blood all over his chin and mouth. “They tried to kill us!”

Steve wanted to agree with that but his vocal chords betrayed him, leaving him speechless. Because of that he only nodded, trying to make his body actually _his_ again.

And then it happened.

His lungs suddenly shrank, acting on their own. His trachea and bronchial tubes in no time on fire, mouth opening and closing as if he really was some kind of fish, cells screaming again. Funny how fear of drowning and dying because of the lack of air caused an asthma attack which could result in death… due to the lack of air. Irony.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Bucky by his side, voice worried and palms on his shoulders. He hadn’t probably seen such an attack before, no wonder he was freaking out.

“A… Asthma… At…tack” quiet answer out of his mouth, words divided by desperate gasps.

Bucky nodded but said nothing more, carefully placing Steve’s arm on his shoulders and one of his hands on his friend’s waist, trying to take him somewhere. One of the conscious and not focused on inhalation corners of Steve’s mind realized he was probably being dragged to Maggie, it was the only logical option and speaking the truth he was glad about it. She wouldn’t ask unnecessary questions nor judging them for their actions and that’s all he – heck, probably both of them – needed.

Some quick and solid knocks to the wooden door and nurse’s face appeared in a moment, an annoyed expression on it as usual. She let them in, instantly taking care of Steve and his asthma attack, helping him to calm down and take one breath after another. After a few minutes his body stopped shaking and he was able to breathe again. Only then did she turn to Bucky, glancing all over his bruised body, shaking her head in flak but saying nothing.

“What story do you have for me this time?” her question more rhetorical than not, wiry hands fumbling inside one of cabinets. “Rabid squirrels? Unfortunate kisses with conifers?” a quiet but still clearly hearable mutter as she picked something up and threw in their direction. “Change into those, you two having flu or pneumonia is the last thing I want to deal with.”

A weird pile of material appeared to be two horribly oversized T-shirts, ones of those which the counselors were wearing. No matter how awful he found them – Maggie was right. His lungs were already in a terrible state, he didn’t need more health issues. Steve thought it might be awkward to change into those with the old nurse watching but she left them alone, going to the other room to put water on.

Every single piece of clothing on them was wet so after a minute or two they were sitting on the couch, wearing only yellow and orange tees with the name of the camp on each. It was a funny experience to wear a T-shirt so big it was almost reaching your knees. Bucky looked at him, then turned to himself and again at him, only to burst in laughter a second later. Yes, they probably looked hilarious in those. Those were dry at least and that was the only thing that mattered.

Their laughter brought Maggie back as well as two mugs filled with hot liquid. Tea, probably.

“It’s amazing how happy you two are despite being so bruised” shaking her head and taking out so-called Basic Set from the drawer behind her. Tons of patches, leno, swabs, peroxide and other stuff Steve was more than familiar with.

Their faces were twisting as unpleasant sensations were going through their bodies, specifics touching fresh cuts and making them burn. No matter how many times he visits the old nurse he will probably never get used to her careful yet harsh way of cleaning wounds. It took her a while, to somehow glue their bodies back together but in the end they were sitting peacefully again, more white on their bodies thanks to bandage and patches.

“Thanks Maggie” he said after receiving a mug with tea, small smile showing up on his face as the nurse looked at him with a blank expression.

“Your troublesome charm is now given to James, I’m impressed” she said calmly, standing up and putting her set in the drawer. “Stay here as long as it’s raining unless you really want to spite me by catching some nasty stuff.”

Steve turned around, his blue eyes widening a bit. There was a horrible downpour on the other side of the window, heavy drops hitting glass as if they wanted to break it and come inside. How did he miss the moment it started to rain? Was he really that dreamy?

Maggie left the room, leaving the two of them alone. Silence settled over them, the rain outside the only source of sound. The atmosphere started to feel a little bit uncomfortable but what was he supposed to say? He was not good at all when it came to chatting or starting conversations, even simple ones. And especially when something so horrible as being almost killed occurred right before.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asked carefully, looking at him with those worried eyes. “I mean, despite the obvious stuff…” he smiled at those words. _Obvious stuff_ was a nice way to call all of those injuries caused by bullies.

“I’m good” maybe it wasn’t the right word but he didn’t care. “But how about you? You’ve been… beaten up much more than…” a weird clutch appeared in his throat, preventing him from speaking. A flash of memories from before ran in front of his eyes but he shut them as quickly as he could. It wasn’t the right time to think about it.

“I’ve been better but I can’t complain” Bucky shrugged, a half smile on his face as he looked at Steve again. “Thanks, by the way”

“Huh? For what?” brows furrowed, gaze intense. What was he thankful for? For making him suffer?

“For your help on the pier. Because of you I could punch that mofo right into his face” he stated proudly, self-satisfied smile showing up.

“Oh my God, you can use such words at home?” Steve chuckled, trying not gasp as well. If anybody heard Bucky now they would probably shocked by such vulgar vocabulary. Not that kids weren’t swearing at all. Of course they were but maybe not so openly, in front of the others.

In no time did they both burst in innocent laughter but it vanished as soon as it started. Uneasy silence fell again, making it almost harder to breathe for Steve. It was making him think about past few hours, too. It couldn’t cause any good.

“I’m sorry” he finally said, legs drawn close to the chest, his chin resting on them. Guilt eventually started to eat his guts, slowly and painfully.

“Why?”

“It’s my fault they beat you up like that” words chosen carefully, voice as emotionless as possible. He really didn’t want to cry, it would only make everything worse.

“Nah, it’s not!” such an open disagreement made something twist inside his tiny body. “They took revenge on me for the last time, it’s not y-“

“Exactly!” he interfered, his voice more firm and loud. “They jacked you up because of me! You helped me last time and that’s why it’s my fault!”

“Your logic doesn’t make any sense, Steve” Bucky pointed out but he didn’t listen to him, emotions raised within that small body and partly taking control over his vocal chords.

“You shouldn’t have helped me, Buck” voice suddenly blank, eyes peeking at the other boy as he continued. “If you didn’t help me, you would be safe now”

“Hey, I couldn’t leave you up there-“

“But you should!” voice trembling, limbs shaking. “It’s not like I’m not used to it”

“Wait, so you’re bullied at home as well?”

That annoying lack of sounds settled over them once again, prodding every inch of their bodies as if it tried to get inside to sprout its shackling roots. Eventually Steve gave up and sighed heavily, turning his head to see that worrisome expression on Bucky’s face.

“I’m a weak kid who doesn’t know when to withdraw. Don’t you think I’m a perfect material for a victim?” a delicate sarcasm in his voice, resignation painted all over his bruised pale face.

Bucky didn’t say a word; he continued to watch him with that care and worry, maybe trying to articulate something uplifting for him. The thing was, he had already heard many different variants of _I’m so sorry for you_ he was more than done with those. He didn’t want pity, especially not from such a person like Bucky. A few more kicks in his stomach would hurt less than hearing that terrible tinge in his friend’s voice.

“How about stories?” Steve could expect many things from him but that question wasn’t one of those for sure.

“What?”

“We are stuck here until it stops raining and we can either sympathize over our unlucky lives or have some fun and make up something better” he explained casually, watching Steve for any reactions. His icy blues spotted a confusion slowly turning into some kind of respect and then agreement. “You in?”

“Why not” Steve nodded and turned his whole body so that he and Bucky were sitting face to face. “So? How do we start?”

“It’s up to you, mate” a shy beam on his face, so white now because of numerous patches. “You can be whoever you want. An astronaut fighting with aliens! A captain of pirate crew, sailing all over the world, searching for treasures and true love” a wink at his direction, merry smile in a response. “Or a superhero combating villains!”

“The last one sounds good” smile even brighter, imagination starting to explore that possibility. “Steve Rogers, the superhero fighting with all kinds of bullies”

“Sweet” Bucky nodded, a grin gracing his face. “But you know, every hero needs an alias”

“Hmm… How about Colonel?” he liked militaries to some extent so why not? Sounded nice: _Colonel Rogers._ Loftily and significantly.

“Are you serious?” he snorted, messing his dark hair with one hand. “Why only Colonel? Let’s be wild and go with Captain!” a cheery sound escaped his mouth, making Steve laugh as well.

“If you say so” a smile on his beaten face, blue eyes focused on the other boy. “How about you? I’m Captain Rogers but who are _you_?”

“If you’re a Captain then I think I’m gonna be a Sergeant” Bucky stated proudly, Steve’s eyes rolling on that response.

“You are way too good to be _only_ a sarge!”

“No, but listen. You’re an incredible Captain Rogers, fighting with bullies all over the world with your super strength, chasing them down with your incredible speed and punishing them for being so violent to innocent people while I, your loyal Sergeant Barnes, am shooting them before you even reach them” statement firm, hands shaped as if they were holding a rifle.

“That’s not fair!” Steve opposed, poking his friend in the place without bruises. “How am I supposed to be the hero here when I don’t even have an opportunity to fight?”

“That’s the point, you need to constantly get better if you want to have your ass kicked” friendly poking turned into thrusting, aching bodies suddenly light and flawless as the two of them were laughing and messing around.

Bucky’s idea was a success. Heavy rain seemed to be nonexistent to them, as well as gray sky, muddy ground and crying trees. Recent events, which of course included Chris and his gang, came across as irrelevant and so so far away from what was happening right then, in Maggie’s cabin. Their bodies seemed to forget they were bruised and cut, acting as if they were completely fine.

Steve’s friend was a really good storyteller. Maybe he was coming up with different ideas but it was Bucky who was putting them all together, creating an amazing story of a Captain whose only aim was to do the right thing and his best friend Sarge, too protective and stubborn to let his buddy fight all alone. Soon enough defeating bullies evolved into combats with super villains from mysterious organization which wanted to rule the whole world. They were the only people alive who knew about it and who could stop it. And so there they were, fighting with regular soldiers, crazy scientists and archenemies  such as Red Skull or Crossbones.

Coming up with aliases for their foes, imagining their struggles and victories, all of that turned out to be way funnier and entertaining that any of them could expected. They didn’t even notice the moment sky went blue again, Maggie showing up in the room as they were discussing a strategy to take the Organization down.

“Not want to spoil your fun but if you don’t hurry, they’ll probably eat everything” she said loud enough to be heard, reaching to her pocket for a cigarette. “I bet your clothes are dry so go and dress up, boys” and after those words she left as if she hadn’t been there in the first place.

He and Bucky looked at each other and without saying a single word headed to the corner where their clothes were drying. In no time did they change into their clothes again and after shooting quick _thanks_ towards the nurse, they literally run straight into commons. Injured legs and cut chests didn’t bother them, fresh air filling their lungs and clearing their happy minds.

The old woman was quite right as they barely managed to put some salad and roasted potatoes on their plates. The view of food reminded them they hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast, thanks to Chris and his fellows, and how hungry they actually were.

“Thanks, Bucky” Steve said with a smile, chewing on a piece of carrot. “For everything”

“You’re welcome” answer muffled due to potatoes in his mouth but clear enough for Steve to understand.

They were sitting, eating and enjoying their company, feeling relished from both food and stories from not so long ago. Even if that was only his imagination, he really felt powerful then. Just as if he could do something meaningful, useful. It was a great feeling.

Chairs and benches started to shuffle, making all of heads rise in curiosity. Counselors were standing above all of the campers, looking at them, waiting for a silence. They wanted to announce something, apparently.

“Good news, everybody” the guy in the middle said, glancing all over the room. “According to weather forecast tomorrow is going to be warm and sunny and that means a trip!” half of the commons cheered while the other side remained silent, maybe slightly confused. “Pack some clothes and bedrolls as we are going to be sleeping outside as well! More info tomorrow, after breakfast”

Steve didn’t heard last few words as everyone was yelling and cheering, making his ears hurt. Camping outside sounded great, he wasn’t going to lie about that, but was it really worth such a loud excitement? He turned to Bucky who was beaming, anticipation all over his face as he finished his dinner and was waiting for Steve.

The vision of Chris’ gang stalking them outside the camp wasn’t pleasant at all but nobody said it had to be that way. Maybe they wouldn’t be able to get them, maybe they would finally have some time off? That sounded really nice and not so unachievable.

He finished his salad and followed Bucky out of the commons, hoping for some more stories before going back to the cabin log where no one cared if he was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang:  
> crunk = hyped out, excited  
> mofo = motherfucker
> 
> I'm both sorry and not for storytelling part. I just... had to, it was stronger than me, I swear.  
> Also let's vote for Maggie, The ~~Sassy~~ Nurse of the Year
> 
> And again, huge-ass THANK YOU to my [amazing beta](https://twitter.com/sapereauso)!!! You rock and ilusm


	4. Chapter 4

It was his first summer on a camp so he didn’t really know what he would need for the trip. Sure, they were told what should be and what has to be taken but… Guidelines were very general. Regulars had already known which rules applied to them and which not, packing other unmentioned stuff instead. His cabin was full of newbies, though. No one really knew how trips looked like here, excitement mixed with anxiety and anticipation. In the end they all followed counselors’ advices, only a few of them taking some extra stuff like a sketchbook in Steve’s case.

Counselors were constantly reminding them to take something for lunch from breakfast, numerous sweet buns and rye rolls only waiting to be taken and packed into one of the backpacks. Steve came late as usual but Bucky was thoughtful enough to grab some of those for him. Campers had an obvious tendency to take with them as many sweet things as possible, leaving little or nothing for those who were coming later.

Eventually they all gathered outside the commons. Sun was shining from behind white fluffy clouds, a pleasant breeze playing with Steve’s floppy hair. He had no clue what to expect but an almost adventurous spirit in his guts was easing his confusion, making it all the more pleasant. He almost wasn’t worried about Chris and his gang, even. They were surrounded by other campers and, what was more important, counselors. No matter how much they wished to beat them up, they couldn’t do much more than mocking light enough to be considered teasing.

“Alright, kids!” one of adults said after they all had been counted. “Let’s go!”

And so did they start their little adventure, entering nice looking forest. No one had told them where they were exactly going nor how long it would take to reach their destination but none of the campers seemed to mind. Newbies looked excited, regulars somewhat glad and mildly interested. Sun was shining from behind leaves and needles, golden dots blinding them or making funny shapes on their bodies. Nature around them held promise of a pretty and long day.

Even though his body was still bruised and aching, it didn’t bother him much. Walking side by side with his friend and knowing that the bullies couldn’t hurt them out there was a magnificent feeling. Sick lungs weren’t an obstacle, either. He was not used to really long strolls, sure, but he had nice trainings before. Being chased or trying to escape bullies’ traps was an excellent way to strengthen his legs and body overall. Heck, it was probably the only good thing of being a victim all his life. If there could be any positive results, of course.

“We need to come up with a plan” that serious tone made his head turn, only to see icy blues looking at him with incredible intensity.

“For what?”

“I don’t know how about you but I ain’t gonna let those mofos go unpunished” Bucky stated firmly, sly smile on his face. “You in?”

Revenge, huh. It was a strange thing and he really should have had mixed feelings towards that idea. He had been taught not to hold grudges, to be merciful. As much as he hated all kinds of mindless violence and abuse, he had never brought himself to actually hate someone from the very bottom of his heart. Maybe he was still too young for that or maybe he was too nice for his own good. Sometimes he wondered about how different his life would have been if he had learnt to truly hate.

“Let’s kick their asses, Buck” he muttered loud enough to be heard, Bucky’s mouth smiling even wider at that response.

Someday it had to be that _first time_ or however you want to call it, why not today?

“I like your tone, pal” another meaningful expression on his face, Steve’s little fists clenching tighter on his backpack. “I’ve been thinking about this already so listen…”

Birds were chirping, trees were rustling and campers were acting way too loudly not to disturb nature’s harmony. Amongst them both of the boys were considering one nasty revenge after another, looking around carefully to avoid Chris and his gang. It was fun. Exciting. Entertaining enough to forget about the rest of the world for a good while.

A group of over thirty kids wandering around the woods is rather a difficult thing to ignore but to him, he and Bucky might as well have been completely alone out there. There was no difference for Steve whether they were actually surrounded by other campers or not – almost all of his attention was focused on Bucky and their plans. How strange it was, coming up with mean ideas only to be bursting in quiet laughter seconds later. On repeat for a few hours straight. Until one of the counselors announced a pause.

A surprisingly spacious patch by the riverbank. Or maybe rather a tiny bit larger creek? Either way it was a perfect place to sit down and rest. Enough shadow to hide from the warming rays, pink skin emitting heat from their bodies just fine. Not until he and Buck sat down did he realize how sweated he was. A fair surprise, followed by grumbling impossible to ignore. He was actually hungry.

“Someone’s stomach is singing a serenade of emptiness” a cocky smile on his face, a light punch from Steve in a response. “Chill, Mr. Grumpy”

“Go fly a kite or something” blue eyes moved in obvious gesture, making Bucky chuckle. Only then did both of them actually opened their backpacks, taking sweet buns out. It had been a while since Steve had an occasion to eat those, his Ma buying mostly necessities.

When he thought of it, he hadn’t been thinking about home for a good while, his thoughts too preoccupied with avoiding avoidable problems and trying not to lose Barnes. A tiny tug of guilt inside his chest, suddenly making food less tasty. He knew it was the whole point of his outing, him forgetting about harsh reality at Brooklyn for some time, but he couldn’t help himself. Silly remorse clutching in his lanky body, sadness of some kind shining through blue irises.

“Hey, you straight?” something warm on his shoulder appearing to be Bucky’s hand, slightly worried expression on his face. He really was easy to read, wasn’t he?

“I’m fine” he forced his mouth to shape into smile, apparently convincing enough to make his friend calmer. They finished their lunch, trying to enjoy their surroundings more. It was a bewitching location, after all.

They didn’t have much time to admire nature’s beauty as after a few minutes their stop ended, everyone on their feet again, starting to move forward again. Counselors claimed they need to reach their destination before twilight and no one really bothered to ask why. It’s not like bunch of janes and lads between ten and fourteen years old felt such information would change their lives. It was as useful to them as yesterday’s leftovers from dinner.

And so they continued their stroll, only a few amongst them thoughtful enough to actually bother to focus on nature around. It was simply captivating and most of them probably would not have another chance to be in such a place, their hometowns swallowing them whole for a long time again. And yet, most of them preferred talking with each other and laughing out loud to paying attention to the forest around. It was almost sad.

“It’s dope out here, isn’t it?” Steve turned his head to see his friend’s face, simple kind of awe on it. “I mean, there is no such ~~a~~ place where I live”

“What city?” he asked out of pure curiosity. It wasn’t like he knew much about Barnes, anyway. It would be nice to get to know your friend, right?

“Brighton. And you?”

“New York”

“Sweet” Bucky nodded with respect, as if coming from such a well known place was worth it. “How is it like out there?”

“I barely go out but Brooklyn is nice, I guess” a tiny smile on his face, feet managing not to trip over protruding roots.”It has its charm, at least for me” a quick shrug and another bigger step to avoid fallen branches this time. “And how about Brighton?”

“I don’t know, I’ve been living there for a week or so” this time Bucky was the one to shrug, curious blue eyes on him. “And before I lived in Lincoln, Nebraska” a single whistle of surprise escaped Steve’s mouth as his friend continued. “I don’t think it was a fun place. Full of serious adults, weird old pricks and all”

“You were this special snowflake, huh?” Bucky smiled on those words.

“I’ve always been, pal.”

The woods around them slowly started to thin out, sun blinding them more often than not. Their walk became more tricky as well so both of them clamed up, focusing entirely on the path beneath their feet. After a while they spotted a drastic change in the scenery. Suddenly they were no longer in the pleasant shadow of the woods, now entirely surrounded by meadows and fields of some kind. Curious little heads turning from one side to another, trying to recognize how it could happen so quickly and smoothly, such a switch. However, in the end it didn’t matter as something much bigger and more interesting was awaiting them. Their destination.

At first it looked like a small dark dot on the blue blue horizon, a tiny solitude rock on a golden ground. As they were coming closer they realized that it was, in fact, quite a big wooden structure. Another few meters and they also saw a fence and a few smaller buildings in the back. Then some of them smiled, recognizing the place. It was a farm.

Some campers seemed relieved, seeing probably familiar place, knowing it’s the end of their trek. Most of them, however,  was confused. A great part of their batch was made of townees, most of whom presumably hadn’t seen barns or stables others than those in books for little kids. It was an entirely new experience for most of the campers, including Steve.

The oldest of the counselors was excitedly saying something to them but he didn’t pay attention, his mind too preoccupied with the view. Only when Bucky prodded him did he return to earth, puzzled look on his face. Campers were running all around the place, adults talking aloof and he didn’t know why. What was he supposed to do?

“What’s going on?”

“You weren’t listening, huh?” a tiny smirk on Bucky’s face, quickly turning into friendly smile. “We have some free time and then we gotta have a campfire”

“Oh…” slow nod to those words, mind off. “Okay”

“C’mon, we outta leave our stuff in the barn” they headed to the mentioned place, two pairs of eyes seeing a nice pile of bags and backpacks in the middle.

Sun was slowly reaching the horizon, painting sky orange, pink and lilac. It looked amazing, Steve felt like searching for watercolors to copy it onto a sheet of paper. All he could do though was marveling at it, observing that artistic side of a nature.

Barnes, however, had slightly different plans.

“Have anything in mind?” a sudden question dragged Steve out of his awe, icy blues looking at him with anticipation.

“Huh?”

“Our tiny revenge, Steve” he quietly reminded, voice firm as well as his gaze. “Have you come up with something?”

He didn’t.

They were discussing many ideas while walking here, sure, but none of those could be fulfilled. All of their plans were either complicated and too time consuming or required ditties they couldn’t get in the middle of nowhere. Some of those were risky and some could be considered horribly silly and childish. Neither of them had thought preparing a retaliation would be so difficult.

And time was running.

“Not really, sorry” a sluggish shrug, head turned in the opposite direction. “Let’s go for a walk”

So did they end up wandering around the farm, trying to devise… anything. Unfortunately, as much as they wanted to retaliate against Chris’ gang for their awful tortures, they were just off the boat in being on the other side. Was it too nasty or not? Wouldn’t that hurt too much? What if counselors hear them doing that? Too many questions and no one to answer them.

In no time did they end up sitting under a tree, grumpy expressions painting all over Bucky’s face. Steve sighed, watching as other campers were playing dodge ball. Not that he was willing to join them but it sure looked fun.

Exasperated sound reached his ears, Bucky suddenly standing up and kicking the tree. Some troubles with handling helplessness and anger, it seemed.

“Why I haven’t been born with a better imagination, I swear…” another kick, this time directed in the nearby cast.

“Don’t say that, your ideas are great so far…”

“Yea, but we can’t use any of them, can we?” a long sigh with barely hidden aggravation, a hand messing dark hair out of emotions.

He didn’t really know what to do so he just stood up and took a few steps forward, hoping silently for a magical inspiration, an afflatus of some kind.

It took him exactly fifteen tiny steps and a one careful look to actually be hit by it.

“Bucky, I think I’ve got a plan”

“Oh, really?” a doubtful response resonate in the summer air but he came anyway. “What is it, then?”

Big blue eyes looked at him with mischievous sparks, slender fingers pointing at bushes in front of them. One minute and thirteen seconds later Bucky understood. And then a great grin quirked on his face.

“Steve, I love your idea.”

 

 

Night had just settled over the farm, swallowing it whole and without any warning. Children were slowly gathering by the bonfire, adults making sure it was big enough to roast sausages and make s’mores. Now it was obvious why they insisted on reaching their destination before twilight. They had to prepare all of this and it was easier in a daylight.

Cool Dudes, as they had been named, were finishing tuning their guitars. They had already announced that today they were in The Mood. It basically meant classic rock all night long but none of the campers really complained, even if some weren’t fond of such music.

Everything looked weirdly cozy, somehow welcoming. Steve was glad for such an atmosphere, a single soul suspicious of nothing. Soothing ambient was helpful in staying calm and not being overly excited and nervous about their plan. Moreover, yummy snacks accompanied by music wouldn’t kill them before their mission, would they?

People sitting close to the fire as first accords resonated in the summer night, whistling coming a second later. Steve had an impression he had heard it somewhere before but speaking the truth, Cool Dudes’ version sounded much better. More entrancingly, somehow.

_An August summer night_ _, soldiers passing by…_

Some of counselors looked at them with mild disbelief, one or two of them shaking their heads in surprise. Were they thinking such a song wasn’t a proper thing for kids like them? Yeah, sure, they probably had no idea what the song was about but it sounded so… positive. Full of hope. At least that was how Steve would describe it. Was it a bad thing?

_Take me to the magic of the moment_ _on a glory night, where the children of tomorrow dream away…_

Song was going on, campers listening to it and roasting their sausages in the campfire. No one dared to interrupt playing counselors, everyone enjoying themselves in slightly different ways. Bucky was carefully eating his s’more, awe in his eyes.

_The wind of change_ _blows straight into the face of time…_

Steve was wondering where he could have heard it before but before he figured that out the song had suddenly ended. A minute long silence disrupted by bonfire’s crackling and then enthusiastic applause appeared, kids and adults cheering alike.

Some other songs occurred after that, more known for the audience this time, so everybody could sing along. Bucky encouraged Steve to join him, even though he didn’t really find his voice made for singing. Eventually he had to admit it was fun but he would never say aloud it was mostly Bucky’s fault. Everything seemed double as enjoyable and entertaining with him.

“Hey little folks” a gentle voice of one of counselors brought his attention, blue eyes focusing on a short broad with curly hair. “How about some ghost stories?”

Everyone instantly turned their heads on these two magical words, focusing entirely on the fem counselor and her sly smile. Steve had a vague understanding she was the favorite adult amongst camp’s regulars but he wasn’t sure why.

“So? Any volunteers?”

Bucky’s hand rose with so much speed and force it almost hit Steve in the face.

“Okay James, you were first” she announced with a chuckle, encouraging him to begin his spooky story.

“I don’t know if it’s a scary story or not but I find it… interesting” a mysterious smile on his face, eyes carefully watching everyone gathered by the bonfire. “Especially in the light of our trip here.”

“Years back there was a wealthy farmer who had a really nice life, you know. A pretty wife, six healthy children and seventh on the way. He had that tradition where he was naming barns after his kids and so he had just finished a seventh barn and waited for another child. You may find the beginning quite silly but hey, that’s how most of the stories are. Simple and sometimes almost dumb” voice light and a half smile on his face, as if he wanted to excuse himself for saying such clichés.

“Anyway… something went wrong during the birth” voice suddenly serious and numb. “The wife died and so did her child” a few seconds of silence, probably to impact listeners. “The farmer was absolutely devastated by that loss. He tried to overcome it, to take care of his children and the farm but… nothing could ease his pain. They say he eventually was unable to pretend anymore, he was tired and done with everything. An unnamed barn was haunting him, reminding about what was taken away from him for… nothing” nobody dared to say anything, everyone charmed by the way Bucky was speaking and articulating. He got them.

“He went mad. His kids were afraid of his sudden blusters but that one was way worse than previous ones. He took an axe” his eyes perfectly dead as he said next few words, shudders going down a Steve’s spine and probably not only his. “He chopped off their heads and then buried all six bodies in his symbol of grief, the miserable seventh barn. It’s not the end, though. Sorrow was so strong within him that he took his own life as well.” Another pause to look at his young audience, eyes carefully wandering from one listener to another. “He hung himself in that barn” he didn’t need to twist his face in hanged man-like expression nor make noise resembling choking but it indeed did its job. A few campers gasped and two or more were nearly crying.

“Eventually his farm was sold off, such a great location couldn’t go to waste, right? But even though six named barns had been taken down before selling the land, people couldn’t find the infamous seventh one. You might be asking how is that, ~~so~~ but… The farmer was quite rich and no one was sure where he located all of his stuff. They had troubles with finding the fifth barn, the fact they had found all six was on merge of a miracle. However… Yes, seventh was still ~~a~~ missing. No one seemed to be willing to go and find it nor to buy a land where such a crime took place. Who would be, anyway?”

“Time was passing by and people started to come up with stories how farmer’s ghost was still present in that barn, drowned in his madness and grief. Speaking the truth, I’m not really into this idea but let me tell you one thing. The seventh barn was on a Podunk and by today it’s probably quite damaged by time and nature. This story can be heard in many states so it’s hard to say where said farmer had actually lived” Steve had an idea where Bucky was going and he found it a perfect occasion to sneak out. Everyone was so focused on his friend no one would spot him leaving. Not that anybody cared enough to acknowledge his presence, anyway.

“What if, and don’t take it for granted, it’s only my theory but... What if we are sitting by that Seventh Barn right now, right here? There is nothing to prove this but there is also nothing to deny it.”

A long silence settled over them all, campfire’s crackling the only sound in the mid July’s night air. Some campers were snorting so quietly it was impossible to hear them. However most of kids seemed disturbed and confused, some on the merge of crying and some stressed. Bucky did a great job with his story. Not only did he use his storyteller skills but also planted a seed of insecurity in their hearts. That was the worst kind of scary stories and Steve was in honest awe for his friend, taking step after step, further into complete darkness.

As he had predicted, no one noticed. Everyone was too focused on Bucky, campers and counselors alike. He headed to the barn, carefully directing his little feet. He had a brief idea where Buck had left his backpack and  the fact it was pitch black wasn’t helpful at all. After almost stumbling three times over unidentified objects and bumping into the wooden pillar he finally managed to palpate a backpack with keychain shaped as an action figure. He carefully opened the first pocket and quickly found what he was looking for. In no time did he switch a tiny torch on, a bright stream lighting Bucky’s backpack. He switched it off after few seconds, not wanting to be spotted by anyone. Again on his feet did he head to the only way out, hoping to stay as invisible as usual. His insipidness was useful for the first time in his entire life and really, he couldn’t complain for such a turn.

Steve was giving a bonfire a wide berth, keeping himself as far from human sight as possible. His gratefulness for the fact that his destination was quite afar from the barn seemed endless. He carefully switched the torch on again, making sure light stream was kept not further than few inches before his feet. In a few minutes he reached his point, an old shed looking much creepier in the weak light of the torch. Surprisingly, finding gloves was much easier than Steve had thought so he quickly grabbed them and headed to the place where he and Bucky had hit on an idea for their revenge earlier today.

Night could be considered pretty with that clear sky with no clouds in it. Pleasurable temperature was a nice thing, too – warm enough to stay outside but with enough chill not to be boiling as if it was ~~a~~ day time. Charm of July, someone could say. Steve really liked this month and not only because he had been born in it. He appreciated it mostly because his mind associated it with nice things. Warm nights like this one. Ice creams with Ma. Colorful evening skies to sketch. Almost no chance of getting sick.

This camp could be added to that list now, too. Maybe not as a whole because Chris and his sidekicks definitely weren’t an advantage of it but if he hadn’t agreed to come here, he wouldn’t have met Bucky. They barely knew each other and yet, Steve had that feeling as if they had been friends for decades now. When all of that whole revenge-thing ended, he would like to take time to get to know him. Barnes appeared to be an interesting person and many campers seemed to like him. Including Steve.

Several minutes later he was done with his job, the torch in one hand and a tuft of unsafe leaves in the other. Finding poison ivy out here could be considered a miracle in the light of their intention. They needed to be careful with fulfilling this plan but if everything went right, bullies would be literally grounded for some time. Such a vision was instantly and constantly lighting Steve up, making him even more encouraged to do his job.

Nevertheless, he almost screamed his life out of himself when out of the blue someone patted him on the shoulder. Luckily enough said person covered his mouth so no sound escaped his mouth. Only then did he notice he bumped into Bucky.

“You scared me!” quiet accusation, hand with poisonous leaves kept on safe-ish distant.

“I noticed, sorry” a gentle smile on his face, almost unnoticed in that poor lighting. “You got it?”

Steve nodded, shaking his hand holding the ivy. The other boy made a sound of approval and waved his hand – “follow me”. Then they went to the barn, looking out for any sign of unwanted presence. Everything was perfectly silent, though, so soon enough they entered it, using Bucky’s torch to find bullies’ backpacks. Then Steve did probably the best and the worst thing he had ever done in his entire life. Leaves were scraping against everything – clothes, litters and the inside of backpack itself. His mum would probably scold him for such behavior, lecturing him about good and evil and such but in that moment all he cared about was giving devils their due.

They almost _died_ because Chris had thought it would be fun to see him and Bucky drowning. It wasn’t mocking anymore, it was _torture._ Being burned by plant’s poison was way too light punishment for them but in such circumstances anything could do. After few minutes he was done, gloved hand still carefully holding ivy as both of them backed out from the barn. Getting rid of evidences was the last thing to do and probably the easiest one. All they had to do was go back to the place from where Steve took leaves and throw them there. Who would care to check if every single leaf was still connected to the rest of the plant?

“You did great, mate” Bucky announced, both of them slowly turning their steps in the direction of the bonfire. Steve had already got rid of gloves, cautiously taking them off and placing somewhere around the shed.

“Thanks, I guess” shy smile on his face, Bucky unable to see it in the darkness. “But it’s not only mine claim to fame. You did a great job as well!”

“It was your idea and you were the one to spread the poison all over their things” voice lowered as if somebody could suddenly hear them. “I was just holding a torch, jeez”

Steve couldn’t help but laugh a bit, cheery note brightening both their faces even more.

“I’ve sneaked out from the campfire only thanks to your story, so no, you were much more than a torch keeper” a delicate nudging in his ribs, badly pretended huffing and then quiet laughter. “But seriously, you are amazing storyteller”

“Thanks bud” a grin on his face was almost hearable. “I tried my best”

“Where have you learnt to tell stories so well? Or maybe it’s natural talent, huh?”

“Trust me, I had plenty of occasions to try it myself. It’s just, I dunno, a knack”

Steve had an unclear impression that he had just glossed over a touchy subject, though he was not sure what that could be. Anyway, he decided not to dig it. Ruining scarcely made friendship was the last thing he wanted to do this summer.

The campfire area was less crowded than Steve had remembered which meant some campers had already gone to sleep. Either that or they just decided to wander around. Quick glance at Bucky and in no time did they start to wander, too. Night was agreeably warm and somehow charming, starry sky above them and quiet trees all around the farm much more alluring than bright fire. Bucky seemed uninterested in sitting between some more or less known campers, just like him. Besides, no one was waiting there for him, for asthmatic little Steve.

“By the way…” his blue eyes looked at Barnes with a spark of curiosity, waiting for a continuation. “How did you know it was poison ivy?”

“When you stay home alone for the whole day you have too much free time” a shrug as he stopped to think about whether he should say something more or not. “One day I found a book with herbs and such. Decided to look through it. I learnt more than I’ve expected”

“You don’t go to, ya know, school?”

“I do” he stated, a sad tinge in his voice. “I wished I didn’t, tho”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Probably bullies and stuff” he wasn’t used to using irony and sarcasm but this one was literally asking for them.

“Ouch… Okay, I get it.” A weird kind of silence settled between them, their steps the only source of sound. “At least you are going to one school”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing important” such a response successfully shut Steve up, though it left him puzzled and curious.

Bucky was hiding something or at least didn’t want to tell him about it. Something about him, about his life. And Steve had no idea why. Weren’t they friends? Or was it such a gruesome thing that it was better for them both to let it be buried deep inside Bucky’s mind?

Suddenly, the calm night was filled with anxiety and doubts.

 

After a while they returned to the barn, placing themselves somewhere between other campers. The atmosphere was calm and sleepy, everyone quickly falling or already fallen asleep. As soon as they shut their eyes they did same, fatigue taking over their bodies and minds.

Nevertheless, Steve’s body decided it wasn’t appropriate for him to sleep for as long as the others. His lungs walked out, barn all stuffy and filled with something itchy. Eyes wide opened, looking around and trying to figure out where Steve was and what time was it. Painful inhale and then there he was, standing up and twisting between sleeping people, the outside sounding more and more promising with each taken step.

A lazy draft quickly cooled his body down, floppy hair now protruding in every possible direction. He didn’t mind, though. He needed fresh air and a quick stroll around the place sounded like a good solution. It was fairly early, Steve supposed, so what was the purpose of doing himself up? No one could see him, anyway.

Sky was bright enough to consider it daytime yet single stars still could be seen in it, twinkling weakly before vanishing for good. All those shades of pink, orange, blue and lilac made him a bit bitter for not taking a sketchbook with him. Going back could result in waking some poor souls up. Besides, for the first time in a very long time he felt great about feeling as if he was the only person alive out there. No noise, familiar yet foreign faces far enough to forget about them and refreshing morning air. Almost a piece of heaven.

His mind was still sleepy and tired but chilly wind had already woken his body up, lanky legs moving forward through dew. He did quite a big circle, slowly approaching the barn after a longer while. His sneakers and socks completely soaked but lungs filled with crystal clear air, ready to eventually let Steve rest for a few hours more.

Small feet stopped, blue eyes looking at the strange cast not so far from the barn. Some closer examination and he spotted tiny little bugs, their red bodies working hard from God knows how long. And then, a quick thought struck his foggy mind, a mischievous side of him suddenly taking control all over the body. That strange luck from the other day hadn’t left him yet, apparently. He still had a paper bag full of crumbs from sweet buns in his back pocket.

Yes, they took a revenge on bullies yesterday. However, Steve  still was quite inconsolable about being the inverted hangman. A few more painful spots on Chris’ body wouldn’t do much of a difference to him anyway. For Steve, however, it would be a sweet personal retaliation of some kind. How lucky was it, that from all of people the leader of the bullies’ gang was shifting in his sleep so close to the entrance?

 

 

A proper brand new day started, all campers getting dressed and all. Counselors had announced they were gonna leave in an hour so everyone was in a hurry, checking if everything was packed. A bunch of toasts with marmalade for breakfast, a bottle of water and a sweet bun per person as packed lunch. Some campers seemed upset, a habit of overeating in the morning revealed by accident. For Bucky, however, nothing looked as ridiculous as Chris and his friends. Unconsciously scratching their arms and hands, not realizing what was going on yet. They probably would notice something was wrong in the middle of the forest, skin burning and screaming for a release of any kind.

“Is poison ivy leaving such dots, Steve?” he asked worriedly, pointing out tiny marks all over Chris’s forearms and legs. The other boy smiled mysteriously, making a conspiratorial gesture, Bucky leaning closer.

“No but red ants indeed do” another sly expression on his usually innocent face, his friend trying to process what he just had heard. When he did, however, he start grinning.

“No way… You didn’t…” of course he did. “Oh my God…”

“What? Aren’t my ideas great?”

“Great?” he blew a raspberry, head shaking in a mild disbelief. “Your ideas are _terrible_ and let me tell you I love them”

Both of them burst in laugh, everyone gathering in front of the barn so adults could count them. The day looked promising. Bright sun hiding behind fluffy white clouds and showing up by turns, temperature perfect for a trip of any kind.

A gust of wind made nature sing a song, all of those rustles and whooshes resonating in ~~a~~ perfect harmony. The farm was saying its goodbye and Steve couldn’t help remembering the song from the previous night. Suddenly, its title started to fit and he wouldn’t lie, it sounded quite promising.

The wind of change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slang:  
> mofos = motherfuckers
> 
> Song played by the campfire is great all-time hit ["Wind of Change" by Scorpions](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n4RjJKxsamQ%C4%99)
> 
> I hope you like fic so far and thanks for staying with me!  
> And thanks again to my [amazing beta](http://twitter.com/sapereauso)!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Talking about family issues (like neglecting children) and mild insomnia episode caused by anxiety. 
> 
> I've put warnings just in case, someone might be not so comfortable with these topics.

If somebody had told him that a revenge might result in watching bullies suffering and being free  for a day or two, he would have decided for it long time ago. Or at least would have considered it more often. The awareness of his tormentors laying in Maggie’s cabin in mild pain and cursing every soul possible was weirdly soothing. Sure, they could eventually find out who poisoned their belongings and literally kill him this time but his mind was not able to focus on this. It was way too preoccupied with sketching.

In the end here he was, enjoying a sunny day under an effused tree, pencil in his hand and Bucky smiling nearby. A perfect composition to draw, light flickering all over that beaming face. An idyll of some kind. Steve really wished it could last longer.

“I really wished it could last longer.”

“What?” eyes still closed, voice tender as he spoke.

“All of this.” Steve replied, making another thick line in his sketchbook. “It’s a shame they will be fine in no time. I’ll miss… this.”

“Yeah… On the other hand it’s better to have this for two days than never.” Bucky pointed out, icy blues focused on Steve.

He wasn’t so sure about that. It was great not to worry about being beaten up again but knowing that he was going to eventually lose this freedom made him bitter. His mom would probably say he was greedy and that he should rather appreciate what he already had, not whining about what he was lacking. Just as Bucky. He couldn’t bring himself for that, though. His twelve years old self was way too intent on finally achieving peace and bullies-free life. Not being a victim was sweeter than any candy and if he could, Steve would exchange all sweets in the world for letting him stay like this. Free. Unbeaten. Calm. Was that really so much to ask for in the first place anyway?

Some part of him would probably miss the fights and even though he wasn’t sure why, he didn’t bother to find out. Steve was internally torn between standing up for what he believes in, fighting for it and remaining calm, as far from fights as possible. He suspected that his Ma’s constant care and sad smiles whenever he came home with new bruises and fresh cuts had to do something with it. He hated worrying her almost as much as he hated bullies. Meeting and fighting them was easier than cheering his mother up, though. Unfortunately.

A delicate touch of pencil and he was done with that piece, Bucky on paper almost as calm and prepossessing as the original one. Because said friend was still snoozing, Steve quietly changed places and started another sketch. He could not understand why Bucky was such an amazing and entertaining subject to draw in the first place but… He didn’t seem to mind. Heck, he was more willing to let himself be drawn by Steve than Steve would ever suspect him for.

After each, let’s say, session he demanded to see the sketches, though. All of them. Steve had mixed feelings about that. On one side he was anxious and slightly embarrassed. He felt as if he had put too much emotions and his own thoughts into each piece. Steve was simply scared Bucky would laugh at him for that or read something into drawings that was not true. He had no idea why he was afraid of such thing in the first place but most of his fears tended to be quite irrational. On the other hand, though, his insides were squeezing in weird kind of excitement. Apart from his mom no one really bothered to look at his drawings. Bucky not only wanted to look at them but, to Steve’s horror and confusion, insisted on keeping them. Steve didn’t consider himself a brilliant artist, rather a messy wannabe artist, but his Barnes didn’t look as if he minded nor as if he lied. He did enjoy those sketches. Steve was overwhelmed by that almost as much as he was happy deep inside. Someone appreciated his work. Someone _acknowledged_ him. _Him._

“Sergeant Barnes, it’s time to go.” Smile on his face as he poked Bucky’s sleeping face, murmurs of disapproval reaching his ears. “It’s an order from your Captain.”

“I object to fulfilling your order.” A chuckle escaped his mouth against his will. He had to try to wake Bucky up another way, then.

“I know Chris and his fellows are still at Maggie’s but other campers won’t even consider leaving anything to us from dinner, Buck. Today is lasagna” maybe his stomach would make him stand up. Or at least consider it.

“I don’t like it, anyway.” A sly smile on his face, making Steve irritated and resigned quickly after.

Lazy Bucky: 1. Hungry Steve: 0.

“You are-“

“Perfectly fine without dinner?”

“…a douchebag” a tiny little smirk quirked on his face when Bucky suddenly kicked him on the side. Thrown off his balance, he fell and now was laying beside his friend. “Hey!”

“What? That was mean so I’ve just repaid you for it.”

“Jerk.”

“Watch your language, kid.”

“Does that mean you’re an old prick?” Steve really couldn’t help himself but to tease Bucky like that and in no time were they pocking, wrestling and laughing. World around them could be on fire and they wouldn’t even notice.

After a while they were too tired of laughing to fight anymore. Bucky had won after a minute or two, though, and Steve wasn’t really surprised. He was still small and weak. He never really managed to win against people taller and stronger than him. Maybe once or twice but it was rather a matter of luck, not fighting skills.

“I am older, though” Bucky said after a while, placing himself again on the ground by Steve’s side.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I turned thirteen this March” he stated proudly, looking at Steve with curiosity. “And you?”

“I turned twelve two weeks ago.” Even though Steve knew he lost this game, he was somewhat glad. He got to know a new thing about Bucky.

“That would make me…” his mouth and fingers moving in silence, calculating. “One year, three month, three weeks and four days older?” a sly expression made Steve suddenly mildly cross but not for long.

“That means nothing other than the fact that you’re an old fart.” Bucky snorted, poking Steve in his side. None of them seemed mad, though.

Steve was already used to friendly teasing and he couldn’t believe he was able to live without it in the past. Such a trivial thing was filling him with something heartwarming. Each time Bucky tossed a sarcastic comment in his direction or said something snarky just to argue with him, he was feeling… alive.

 

Their peace didn’t last long. The main source of their distress was out of camp’s reality for about two days but then returned in full strength. Luckily enough, no one accused Steve or Barnes for their bullies’ state. Not even the bullies themselves. Steve was silently thanking God for having them both in His care. It had to be a miracle because if not, then what? He doubted Chris and his gang hadn’t even _tried_ to think of him and Bucky or at least hadn’t been considering it for a few seconds. Did they really look that innocent and incapable of revenge?

Nevertheless, peaceful days were over. Even though Bucky could easily cut all ties with Steve and therefore avoid Chris more effectively, he didn’t. He decided to remain by Steve’s side and so were they now running down the path, hoping and praying that Markus, Chris’ favorite sidekick, hadn’t spotted them. It wasn’t necessary for them to run but it was safer. And, of course, funnier.

After a minute or two they slowed down, seeing that clearly no one was chasing them. Eventually they ended up standing in one place, Steve leaning on the wooden wall and trying to force his lungs to work. A sudden wave of sounds reached his ears and when he thought he must be sick and should go to Maggie, a voice appeared.

“Good! Next step is tricky so pay attention. It goes like…” a female voice vanished a bit, firm steps taking its place. Not until now did Steve realize they had almost run into dance classes. Interrupting other campers and being stared at wasn’t a pleasant vision so he quickly sent a thankful prayer for that tiny bit of care. They were saved from a low-key embarrassing situation.

He wasn’t exactly sure why he considered entering dancing classes as such. Maybe because it was mostly, if not entirely, female class? Being made fun of by boys is one thing but girls… That was a completely another caliber. Even though tons of gossips and strange looks at his direction sounded horrible, they weren’t the worst. In his modest opinion group giggles were on the leading edge. He had only experienced it once but it was one too many. Steve didn’t really consider himself shy but a memory of him forgetting how to use his vocal chords in front of that one girl resurfaced in his mind out of the blue. It happened almost two years ago and was a tiny cause for shame ever since.

“Looks like they’re trying Jive” Bucky’s amusement brought him back from awkward depths of his mind, eyes trying to focus on the person in front of him.

“Jive?”

“It’s a dance” Bucky explained, looking away from the dance floor. “A pert one.”

“How do you know?” dancing appeared as a black magic to his eyes, a very painful and humiliating one to be more precise.

Bucky suddenly turned around and started to jump, kick and wiggle, all of that in a strange yet pleasing to watch harmony. Steve’s mind noticed Bucky was dancing to the music in the background. He was doing it incredibly well, as if he wasn’t doing anything other than that all his life. Suddenly he stopped, limbs suddenly frozen on his sides. He looked at Steve after that short performance, a cocky smile on his face. “I know a few things.”

“Where did you learn that!?” his blue eyes were looking at Bucky with pure awe, mouth unable to articulate a proper compliment.

“My mom taught me this and that.” His bright smile faded a bit after those words, indicating that Bucky’s mom was a rather touchy subject.

“You’re great, Bucky!” Steve stated firmly, his tiny fists clenching due to emotions. “Your moves are so smooth and all, just… whoa”

“Thanks” he approached Steve with a grin on his face, looking at him with curiosity. “How about you?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Can you dance?” he probably had to pale or a cold sweat of shock showed up on his face because Bucky almost instantly answered himself. “I guess that means no… Want me to teach you?”

“Huh?” Steve thought he misheard. It was impossible that his friend just offered to teach him…

“Me. You. Dancing lessons. It’s fun!” Bucky exclaimed, patting Steve on the back. “Besides, as far as I know it’s quite a useful skill when you’re older” Steve wasn’t sure if he knew what Bucky was insinuating, however it didn’t matter in the end. He let himself be dragged to a peaceful, secluded place which was decided to be the best for their lesson, of course by Bucky. Strangely enough, Steve was both anxious and interested.

On the one hand he knew he was a horrible dancer, it was engraved deep inside in each of his bones. Nevertheless, learning something new always sounded exciting and the fact that Bucky was going to be his teacher this time made everything funnier. It wasn’t like they had much to do anyway, since Chris and his fellows were wandering around the camp now, probably looking for some victims. Staying in one, secret-ish place in the woods sounded like a good way to avoid troubles. For some time, at least.

“I’m not an expert and I only knew a few dances but it’d be good to start with something easy” Bucky announced, Steve only nodding in a response. “How about a waltz?”

“You’re the teacher here” he shrugged, looking expectantly at his friend.

“Okay then.” Bucky smiled, his hands in the air holding an invisible partner. “Before learning anything you need to make flawless steps which goes like that” one-two-three, one-two-three, Steve counted silently. It looked quite easy in his opinion. “Your turn.”

He stood up and tried to mimic Bucky’s movements. One-two-three, one-two-three. It resembled a box, he realized after he was done. His eyes focused on Bucky whose eyes were strangely amused. “What?”

“And that’s what I was talking about. You need to make them _flawlessly._ ”

“When did I do something wrong?” confusion painted all over his face as Bucky approached him.

“Look closely, Steve” position and one-two-three, one-two-three. And then once again. And again. By that time he noticed Bucky was tiptoeing until third step. Up-up-down, up-up-down. Was this his previous mistake? “Try again.”

This time he focused on his feet, trying not only to move in a box-like shape but to have in mind rule of up-up-down. It was more difficult, especially since he had no idea how to make all of this some kind of habit. It had to be like that if he wanted to try something other than basics.

“Better.” Bucky rewarded him with a smile of approval, making him feel proud of himself. When was the last time he had been feeling this way? “Now we need to make it more smooth.”

And so did their lesson continue, time passing in the blink of an eye. Before any of them realized it was horribly late, sun slowly setting. They rushed to the common, hunger poking their insides with its tiny claws. It started to be more noisy and intrusive when they spotted exactly no one and nothing. That would be it in the matter of being lucky as they had to wait till breakfast to actually eat something. Neither of them had any snacks left to share.

Even though Steve was tired after taking waltz’s basics in and hungry was well, he was not upset for being late to the dinner. He had fun and one night without a full stomach wouldn’t kill him. In his mind all of that was worth it. Asking Bucky was quite pointless as only devastation and grumpiness was painted on his face, indicating he didn’t share Steve’s opinion. Nevertheless, he asked when he could count on the next dancing lesson. Tomorrow if you wish, a response echoed. Steve could not complain at all.

 

Dancing classes turned out to be much more entertaining and valuable than Steve would have thought. He had never consider himself a flexible person nor one talented in such areas but Bucky was a way better teacher than expected. His Ma was caring and full of compassion but sometimes she was too easy on him, Steve realized. His friend either tried to ignore the fact Steve was overall weak and asthmatic or actually forgot that. It was a good thing. Dancing required a focused mind and some kind of intuition, a feeling of what to do next to convince your partner you’re good and confident of your moves. It was a hell of a trouble for Steve but eventually he figured out how to dance waltz properly, reducing stepping on Bucky’s feet only to three or four times per dance.

“Someone might call it a disaster but I call it progress” a smirk on his face used to make Steve annoyed but in the end he understood that was just Bucky’s way of being. Teasing was his way to show approval and that he cared. 

“Thank you, Mr. Old Prick” Steve snapped back, beam on his face as Bucky snorted. “Are you going to teach me something else now?”

“Nah, not enough time” he shrugged, looking at the sky and deciding it’s better to go. “Besides, I don’t really know anything so well I could teach you.”

“What do you mean?” Steve followed, his stomach approving that decision with a quiet rumble.

“I’m almost entirely self-taught, there is still so much I need to learn I don’t think it’s a good idea to teach others” Bucky answered simply, turning around to see Steve’s face. “I know waltz, some jive and rock’n’roll, basics of a few other dances and… that’s it. It’s not a lot.”

“It’s much more than you think” he replied sincerely, a shadow of mild disappointment painting all over his face. He really liked those lessons. “And haven’t you said your mom was teaching you?”

“It’s complicated.” Bucky turned around again, steps somewhat bigger and quicker. “She’s shown me some basics and if she had an occasion to see me dancing, she would correct my mistakes but more than a half of what I know is not from her”

“Is that so…” they walk out from the woods, heading towards the commons. “I find you an incredible teacher, anyway.”

“Thanks, Stevie” he sighed as he didn’t really want to argue with being called like that once again. Since Bucky was older he found it amusing to call Steve as if he was a tiny toddler or something. “Even if I decided to teach you something more, it wouldn’t be possible. Tomorrow is the last day of the camp, it’s not enough time…”

“Wait, what?” blue eyes widening in shock at that sudden realization that, oh God, Bucky was right.

“Time passes quickly when you have a good time” an answer echoed in the evening air, a somehow melancholic sigh following it right after. It seemed not only Steve was inconsolable about that simple fact. “C’mon, I’m hungry.”

He sped up in the commons’ direction, Steve following him silently. A week ago he had wished to be home, with Brooklyn’s traffic noise and his mom. Now, however, things were slightly different. No matter how much he didn’t want to admit it, he would do anything to make this camp last longer. Make it going on for an eternity, if possible.

Funny, isn’t it?

“I swear,  I’ve never eaten such a scrummy thing in my whole life”

“Bucky, it’s an apple pie.” Steve commented, rolling those blue eyes as his friend took another bite of the pie, completely self-indulgently. “Haven’t you eaten a pie before?”

“I don’t buy those and I can’t bake so, yeah, rather not” he shrugged, finishing his dessert.

“What about your parents?” Steve knew that Bucky’s mom was somewhat a sore point and he wasn’t sure whether his dad was such or not. Curiosity won, though.

“Dad’s too busy, mom…” Bucky hesitated for a moment, his eyes wondering all over a table he and Steve had been sitting by. “Mom too.”

“Bucky?”

“Hm?”

Steve felt internally torn. One side of him wanted to straightforwardly ask what was this all about, why his friend was feeling this way and _help,_ actually do something. The other side, however, he was utterly scared. Of crossing a vague line. Of making Bucky angry. Of losing a friend. Now, when Steve actually had a chance to experience having someone by his side, coming back to a friendless life in Brooklyn sounded like a nightmare. He had no clue whether he and Bucky would stay friends after the end of the camp or not, true. He was ready to do anything to maintain their relationship, though, and he really didn’t want to screw everything by being too sticky.

“Ah, nevermind.”

 

The sun rose, announcing the beginning of a brand new day. Steve spotted the exact moment when night faded into a day because he had barely slept. His body decided it would be fun to mock him, to fill each and every one of cells in his body with anxiety, indecision and “what if” scenarios. It wasn’t fun at all. Bright blue eyes resembled cloudy sky, well-visible bags under them. He felt tired and sleepy but whenever he let his eyelids shut, they were wide open again in no time. His body was betraying him, taking maybe three hours from given ten. Steve woke up from a tiring sleep around four in the morning and was just laying in bed till seven, not being able to switch his brain off. He just hoped for a nap of some kind during the day. Maybe Maggie had something energizing amongst her vitamins and supplements, too. That could do, probably.

When his roommates were still asleep, he silently got up, put on some clothes and left. It was fairly early, air filled with the chill of a night. Steve didn’t even mind dew soaking through his sneakers and socks, a cold sensation both icky and weirdly refreshing. It was far too early for a breakfast so he directed his steps to Maggie’s cabin, hoping to receive something stimulating. Falling asleep in the middle of avoiding Chris and his fellows sounded quite bizarre and he was ready to take some strange pills to be sure it wouldn’t happen. Suddenly, he felt really sorry and full of sympathy to all insomniacs, to all people who struggled like that each and every day. Just as if they were constantly living in some kind of hell. Terrifying.

As the wooden door opened, Steve could not tell whether Maggie’s annoyed expression was her regular one or she really was upset about his visit so early in the morning. Nevertheless, she let him in and quietly listened to his request, carefully looking at him. A few seconds passed before she spoke:

“I won’t give you any pills Steve. I can make you an energy boosting tea if you want, though.”

“Yes, please” his head started to play with him again, making everything double and blurry. While the nurse was making him something to drink, he sat down on a couch and waited. “Sorry for coming so early.”

She didn’t answer to that. Actually, she remained silent until handing Steve a mug of hot liquid, pleasant smell of berries and herbs filling his nostrils and lungs.

“Steve, what happened?” he looked up at her, no signs of worry or any other expression visible on her face.

“Nothing, really” his gaunt shoulders shrugged, slender fingers tightening their grip on the mug. “My brain is just stupid again and makes me fret about stuff.”

“Even to the point you can’t sleep?” he nodded, blowing at his tea and trying to take a sip. What else he could do? He was too tired and stressed about aimless problems to even argue with the old nurse. “Have you heard about meteor showers?”

“Meteor showers?”

“Yes, it’s quite a thing. They last for a whole year but there are days when those are well visible and spectacular” she stood up and reached into one of cabinets, handing Steve a magazine of some kind. “Take a look, kid.”

He did. It appeared to be a list of all meteor showers which could be seen from Earth, dates of the maximum visibility and intensity marked next to time frames. Quite a handy thing if someone planned on watching shooting stars. Then his blue eyes land on Southern Delta Aquariids, whatever name it was, and then they widen in a surprise. Today was their maximum day.

Steve looked at Maggie again, trying to figure out whether she was insinuating something or not. Was she really prompting him a plan for the last night of a camp or was he just too sleepy and put too much meaning into things? Eventually, he decided it didn’t matter that much. The only thing that counted was a plan that started to slowly bloom in his mind, just like a pretty flower was blossoming after a rainy day.

Steve smiled at Maggie as he handed the magazine back to her. He quickly finished the tea, a warm feeling spreading all over his lanky body, a fatigue slowly fading. A quick thank you tossed at the old woman’s direction as he stood up and headed to the commons, sweet smells reaching his nostrils and making his stomach awake. He was hungry. And full of energy and excitement for today’s night. He only hoped Bucky would share his enthusiasm.

“Somebody’s in good mood today” he made a comment as Steve sat next to him, mysterious smile on that svelte face. “What’s up blood?”

“I’ve got a plan” it was hard not to show any signs of an inner excitement that was eating him alive. It paid off, though. Bucky looked genuinely interested in hearing more. “You in?”

“I don’t even know what are you gonna do!” an exclamation mixed with a laughter, icy blues focused on Steve. “Details, please?”

“It’s nice, somewhat entertaining but slightly against camp’s rules. Is that enough?”

“Yes” he nodded, taking a bite of his sandwich. “Sign me up for that.”

“Sweet” Steve’s smile broadened a bit, thoughts racing through his mind. There were so many things he still needed to check and prepare, there was still plenty of things that could go wrong and yet, he was feeling calm.

After they were done with breakfast Bucky insisted on knowing a little bit more. Since he seemed entirely down for Steve’s idea, there was no or very little chance he would change his mind. Steve made him wait till they settled in their favorite spot in the woods, though. Not that he had any certain aims behind such an action, he just enjoyed teasing Bucky like that. Nevertheless, he shared his plans with Bucky as soon as effused trees hid them from the world.

“That sounds nice” fingers combing his dark hair, loose strands now swept-back. “But where do you plan on watching stars? There aren’t many places good for that.”

“I’ve thought about the commons’ roof” at the beginning he wasn’t fond of that idea, the risk of being caught scratching the back of his head. In the end, however, he couldn’t find anything better. Even the vision of counselors coming for them became blurry and less probable in his mind after a while. “It’s flat and high enough to have a better view than from the ground. Besides, who would even care to check that roof in the middle of the night?”

Bucky was nodding with approval at those words, smile slowly quirking on his face. To tell the truth, Steve wasn’t as confident as he appeared to be but his friend didn’t seem to notice or bother about that. He accepted the plan given to him, added a few details to make it less sketchy and agreed on a certain hour and place of their meeting. Steve’s face didn’t condemn worries eating him from the inside or at least he hoped for it. He really hated the fact that he was such a whiner but growing up with sometimes too careful and kind mom probably did its job.

They spent the whole day as usual. Feet were taking them here and there, campers cheerfully playing and laughing all around them, probably not realizing it was their last day. They had enough luck to join a few of them in the lake, swimming weirdly soothing and relaxing to Steve’s mind and body. Later on they were wandering again, eventually ending up in the woods. Bucky really wanted Steve to draw and he didn’t really have a will to object to that. Sketching had always helped him with winding down and his friend, what a weirdo, found his messy drawings good enough to keep them. Not that Steve really minded it. It was something new and somewhat heartwarming.

During the dinner he was absentmindedly putting random things on his plate, usual clamor reaching his ears but still being really faraway. Not knowing why, he was detached from his gaunt body that evening. He was sad, sure, but it wasn’t just that. He felt as if an invisible hand grabbed his insides, squeezed them, changed their arrangement and left, all of this in the blink of an eye. Something was wrong, Steve knew that, _felt that,_ but he could not name or explain it. The closest word to that feeling was ‘lornness’ and still, it didn’t seem to fit just right.

“So? See you there as planned?” Bucky poked his side, bringing a part of his mind back to the body. Steve looked at him with dull blue eyes and nodded, feeling unable to make his voice work. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, grinning at him and heading to his cabin.

Steve wondered what he had done in the previous life to deserve to meet such a kind person because, in his opinion, nothing in those twelve years could count on his behalf.

 

Sneaking out of his cabin was easy. All of his roommates were long ago asleep and even if they weren’t, none of them would probably bother to stop him. Chilly night air tickled his face, pervasive silence overpowering him for a few long moments. His feet took him to the commons and until he spotted a lonely figure with a torch, he was strangely sure no one in the whole world remained alive beside him. That strange kind of loneliness left him as soon as he approached Bucky, a quick nod in his direction, both of them lightened by the torch.

It was crescent today so Steve merely saw his own feet and hands when climbing on common’s roof, old gutter creaking under his little body. It was even louder under Bucky’s body but, thank God, it managed to remain in one piece. The roof seemed much more stable and solid than that, though.

“It was a nice idea, Steve” Bucky said as they unfolded their blankets and laid on them, enormously big and beautiful night sky above them. “This view is much better than the cabin’s ceiling.”

He chuckled at those words, wondering what to say or even say anything at all. In his entire life he had never seen so many stars, not to mention the fact that he never considered himself a big fan of space. It was endless, empty and unknown, making him both afraid and enchanted. Focusing on something  a little more mundane and achievable was way easier and less frightening. But now, spread on an itchy blanket next to Bucky, his mind was in pure awe.

A few shooting stars glimpsed on that inky expanse before Steve even managed to think about a single wish.

“You know, technically what we see is quite late.” Bucky said out of blue, his eyes still focused on the night sky. “Light travels through space to Earth and is delayed. Shooting stars we see are long gone, we might as well make a wish during a daytime, hoping to come across a falling star somewhere in the galaxy.”

“You’re really into science, ain’t ya?” and probably into mind reading as well, but he didn’t say that out loud. Or maybe he was just so easy to read? That was an option, too.

“Hey, it’s cool” Bucky replied sincerely. “We know so much and so little at the same time, it’s amazing and all” even though it was pitch black Steve somewhat could see a grin on his friend’s face. “Science won’t fail you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes we don’t know things and make mistakes, sure, but. Trial and error eventually leads do results and those won’t let you down or make you feel…” he suddenly clammed up, shifting a bit on his blanket.

“Make you feel what?” Steve dared to ask.

“Make you feel the way people do” he finished, a bitter tang in his voice. “I’m really tired of this, ya know? I wished time could just stop.”

Steve knew what Bucky was talking about and at the same time, he didn’t. He was familiar with that feeling, with that need to ignore the passing time for good. Nevertheless, the reason behind Bucky’s desire to stop time remained unknown to him. Why didn’t his friend want to leave things as they were? What was he tired of? Did it have something to do with his parents? Steve highly disliked not knowing answers for such important questions.

“You like it out here, don’t ya?” he said more rhetorically than not, eyes focused on the Milky Way above them.

Steve wasn’t a big fan of science. All those mathematics, physics and difficult names were making him dizzy. Space, however, was one of the very few exceptions. He didn’t fancy it per se, but rather preferred its aesthetically pleasing beauty and the concept as a whole. Endless, cold void. Harsh, impossible to live in and so terribly unexplored. And yet, so marvelously wondrous. There really was something magical in outer space, millions and billions of stars and planets, shining from afar, just… being there. Maybe waiting for something or someone to get to know them.

“Don’t you think we resemble them?” Bucky’s question pulled Steve out of his own mind, starry sky unchanged. “Stars, I mean.”

“In what way?”

“At a first glance, we live with other people. We see and acknowledge others’ existence but each one of us has their own path” he explained carefully, tone suggesting a partial absence of mind. Steve knew this state very well and it wasn’t too hard to get into it as Bucky continued. “Some of us are big and shine really bright, only to burn later. Others just… exist. Not too big, not too small. Somewhere in the inky sky. And no matter how much we would love to change it, we are on our own.”

A shooting star glimpsed before Steve’s eyes, his mind lazily analyzing Buck’s words. Was he insinuating everyone was cursed with loneliness? That didn’t sound too optimistic.

“I don’t think it’s quite right” he said out loud, his fists tightening around the blanket. “We are not entirely alone. What about family and friends?”

Bucky snorted at those words. “I don’t have these so I’ll stick with my idea.”

“What do you mean?” he frowned, tearing his gaze away from the sky above them to look at his friend. “You have a family and I bet you have friends as well…” I hope you at least think of me as one, he added in his head, not daring to say it out loud.

“My parents are divorced, Steve.” Bucky said blankly and bluntly, not even looking in his direction. “I see my mom, what, once a year? She has a new family, she doesn’t need me in it. It’s easy to notice that when I’m out there with her husband and daughter.”

Steve felt a strong urge to say something, to do something, _anything._ He remained still, though, letting Bucky continue. It looked as if he had quite a lot to add, actually.

“Dad is… is. In theory. In reality he’s barely present because of _work”_ an emphasis put on the last word suggested he really hated his dad’s job, whatever it was. “But you know what’s the worst? The _aftermaths_ of it.” Steve had never heard such a bitter tone before, it sounded almost surreal escaping Buck’s mouth. “I’ve been changing houses and schools more often than you and me have years when summed up. Do you think I have friends, Steve? Whenever I befriended someone, I had to move out. I’ve stopped trying to make friends a long time ago.”

Bucky’s exasperation and acrimony made Steve’s heart shudder. Normally, he would probably get mad and start arguing with Buck, trying to find some positives but. This whole thing was utterly, horribly _sad._ He couldn’t even imagine how terrible it was, changing schools so often. He disliked that one in Brooklyn and would love to change it but that’s because of the people out there. How would he judge school where he merely had a chance to get to know its students? It was impossible. Actually, he would probably go crazy if he was forced to introduce himself over and over and over and over again.

Now it was obvious for him why Bucky was not willing to talk about his mom or dad. Steve also wouldn’t be into talking about his Ma if she were as absent in his life as Bucky’s parents.  What would have he been able to say, anyway? If you didn’t spend time with each other, how would you know anything about the other one?

“So why me?” To tell the truth, Steve wanted to say “ _I’m sorry to hear that”_  or another thing indicating he wasn’t lacking compassion but. That would probably make Bucky angry. He probably had heard that way too many times, anyway. “Why did you decide to hang out with me?”

“I dunno” he answered after a minute or two, icy blues daring to look at Steve. “As much as I’m tired of trying to make friends, helping you was just… a right thing to do. I couldn’t leave you out there.”

“But you came to me later to check on me and then stayed with me till now. Why?”

Silence settled over them, night wind moving trees and making them sing their crackling song. An unpleasant shudder went down his spine, shivers slowly spreading all over his bony body. It spelled a cold but Steve pushed that thought into the back of his mind. It wasn’t a time to think about the possibility of being sick in a future. Receiving a sincere answer from Bucky was much more important right now.

“Why?” he repeated himself, intense look on Bucky face. He needed to know the answer. He _had to._

“I don’t know!” he finally shouted back in a response, realizing a second after that he should lower his voice a bit. “You just…” he sighed resignedly, looking right into Steve’s eyes. “I was worried Chris and his gang would hurt you but then I unintentionally became attached to you and… Here we are now.”

“Did you just say you accidentally befriended me?” Steve was quite amused. He had never heard about someone making friends _on accident_ before. It was just upsettingly hilarious. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“No clue.” Bucky replied bluntly, his eyes still on Steve’s. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been close with somebody. I feel as if I’ve forgotten how to have friends, actually.”

“I feel as if you’re entirely wrong, actually” he chuckled as Bucky poked him in his thigh, his blue eyes again focused on the twinkling dots above them. ”I’ve never had any friends before and I’m not gonna let you forget me that easy.”

Steve was surprised by his own words and by the fact that he really meant them. He got attached to Buck and losing him was equal to losing a part of himself. He didn’t feel he would be able to survive that.

“Are you sure?” voice strangely quiet and unsure, vocal chords not letting hope slip outside. “I don’t think I’m the easiest person to keep in touch with” his weak attempt to joke assured Steve even more in his actions.

“You know, I’m aware it ain’t gonna be an easy thing. But I want to give it a try” suddenly, he was upset for the darkness all around them because Bucky couldn’t see how sincere and meaningful his eyes were. He wanted to let his friend know how much he cared and words didn’t seem enough. “I like you, Buck. I don’t want this friendship to die.”

Maybe it was a childish thing to say but a muffled laughter insured him Bucky was feeling the same way. Both of them were lonely stars but somehow, they managed to collide. The point was to not let them separate again.

“Is that your wish?” Bucky asked, curiosity and amusement echoing in his voice. It took Steve a moment to realize he was referring to the shooting stars.

He snorted in a response, hoping Bucky would understand his reply. Even though he couldn’t spot any falling stars on a night sky, he silently made a wish anyway. _Let us remain,_ he said without saying a word out loud, _do not let us fall apart._

The last night of the camp was a really pretty one. The sky was crystal clear, temperature high enough not to let them freeze. Stars were twinkling brightly in the inky ocean of space and Steve knew he would remember it for a long time. Not because it was the last night but because it was a first night of a promise. The promise about not giving up on the other one, no matter how difficult life might get. It was a challenge, indeed.

Steve, however, liked challenges like that. Bucky, as it turned out, liked them, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No music or slang this time but I wanted to highlight something:  
> Jive is a really difficult dance and if you don't believe me, check it out on [youtube](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnCdgG-GdDU). I wondered whether Bucky should be able to actually learn this one with little or even no help. I believe his a smart and clever kid but I didn't want to make him a 13y.o. genius. If I overdo this one, I'm sorry.
> 
> This is also the end of, let's say, part I. Yay! Now things will be a little bit... more difficult and, I'm warning in advance, there is going to be much more "jumping" in timeline.
> 
> And huge thank you, once again, for my amazing [beta](http://twitter.com/sapereauso) <3 This fic would be much less enjoyable without her help, trust me.


	6. Chapter 6

“Steve, James wrote to you,” nowadays, there were hardly any things which could easily make him pay attention. This was one of them.

In no time did he put his sketchbook aside and approach his mom, slender fingers taking an envelope from her. She was already used to his impatience when it came to Bucky, she didn’t even complain about that. She was happy he had found a friend and really, so was Steve.

School was horrible with all those strappers only waiting to mock him. They didn’t change during summer at all, in spite of growing taller. And there he was, still small and vulnerable and ready to prove he could use it on his behalf. Sure thing, there was a long way to go but at least now he was able to punch bullies back and disappear quick enough not to be smashed against the wall.

“And what is he saying?” his mom asked curiously, cleaning dishes as he was reading the letter.

“He says he’s gonna come!” an exclamation was a bit louder than necessary but his Ma didn’t seem to mind. “He’ll stay for a week in July, if it’s okay with us?” a questioning tone made her smile.

“I think yes, it’s okay with us,” she smiled at him from the kitchen, his blue eyes now sparkling with joy. “Go and write to him.”

She didn’t need to say that, he was already on his way to grab a piece of paper and a pen. Steve really wished there was a more efficient way to communicate with Bucky but for now letters had to do. They weren’t _that_ bad but waiting two weeks, or sometimes even more, to receive a reply was nettlesome.

That’s why they were planning to meet during this summer with a great standby of time. It was only May, after all. They had been speaking mostly about Bucky’s visit in Brooklyn since April, though. Steve was excited to see his friend after a whole year, anticipation literally eating him alive. He missed those idle chats and snarky remarks. Getting revenge on bullies. Learning how to dance. Memories of the camp were both mesmerizing and painful, his head wrapped around the past and ignoring here and now.

The fact his mom seemed to like Bucky even though she had never met him was somewhat soothing. She claimed his personality was reflected in letters and that she could tell quite a lot about him from them. Steve didn’t really know what she could actually see from those but it seemed enough for her to believe Bucky was a good person. He wouldn’t have become friends with someone horrible, too. In the end, she said she would be glad to finally meet his friend.

 

Almost five weeks later Steve was standing with his mom on a bus station, his blue eyes trying to catch a glimpse of a well-known face. He knew Bucky had probably changed, they both were older now, after all. However, Steve had a sneaking belief he would recognize his friend no matter how much time had passed.

It took him a while to spot an approaching silhouette but soon enough he and Bucky were stifling from their strong hug. His friend looked a bit nervous and stiff when facing his mom. Nothing extraordinary, Steve thought, as meeting someone’s parent was always somehow stressful and awkward. They seemed to get more comfortable on the way home, though.

“Boys, are you hungry?” she asked tenderly, directing her steps to the small kitchen. Both of them followed her, peeking at her moves from behind a table. After few minutes they all were sitting comfortably next to each other, rice with chicken smelling deliciously.

In no time did the food disappear, their stomachs full and faces smiling.

“It was delicious!” Bucky exclaimed with a cheerful smile, his eyes focused on Steve’s Ma.

“Thank you, James.” It really was amazing how easily he made himself likeable. Steve had troubles with showing his own worth, mostly because he was convinced he didn’t really have any. Meanwhile, Bucky came to New York only an hour ago and his mom was already spellbound. Incredible.

“Steve, how about showing your friend around a little bit?” she said kindly after they helped her with the dishes. It was a good idea, actually. His Ma had a night shift today so they should be back before she left. There wasn’t much time for longer trips, then.

A humid gust of wind hit their faces as they opened the door, traffic noise loud as usual at this time of a day. Sirens echoing from the far away alongside some barking here and there. In other words, Brooklyn at its finest.

He didn’t really know where to go so he just let his foot wander wherever they wanted. That’s how Bucky met Mr. Miller, an owner of a local grocery. Steve really liked that oldie, mostly because he was one of those few people who actually noticed him and cared about him to some extent. He also tended to give Steve free candy or two from time to time.

“Oh my, who we got here?” the oldie smiled at them, wrinkled hand adjusting glasses as they came closer. “Steven, who is this gentleman with you?”

“It’s James, Mr. Miller,” he responded happily, waving at Bucky. “My friend.”

“Is that so?” he blinked, surprised, and then looked at Bucky and smiled. It was this heartwarming kind of smile only elderly people could give. “Nice to meet you, then. Benjamin Miller.”

“James Barnes.” They shook each others’ hands and to Steve’s inner joy the old man gave them hard candies with that conspiratorial smile: _just don’t tell anyone._ Sometimes he wondered if Mr. Miller wasn’t a ten-year-old in a disguise. It suited him much more than a label of an elderly man.

They chatted a tiny bit more and then his foot took him to another place. And then somewhere else. Again. And again. Steve wasn’t sure where he was even going anymore, he had lost a track. He didn’t mind, though. Bucky’s companion and sincere awe of Brooklyn as a whole kept him preoccupied. They could bump into one of local gangs and he probably wouldn’t notice. Luckily enough, they didn’t meet anyone potentially dangerous or rude, Mr. Miller being the only soul on their way. After strolling all around Prospect Park, Steve decided it would be nice to slowly go back. His Ma was probably getting ready for work now.

“I must say you live in a great place, Stevie.” Bucky didn’t seem tired or bored, his icy blues live as never, just as if they couldn’t decide what was worth looking at for longer than five seconds. “Brooklyn is way better than Brighton.”

“I’ve never been there so I’m gonna trust you on this.”

Steve was really glad he had been living in Brooklyn but he thought it wouldn’t be that bad to go and visit other places. Even though Bucky was complaining about Brighton or Lincoln all the time, he was genuinely curious about those places and would love to see them himself. He had never left New York, last year’s camp the only exception.

As soon as they came back to Steve’s flat, they met his mom heading to her work. She gave both boys a quick kiss on their foreheads and in no time did she disappear into the endless maze of New York’s streets.

Steve wasn’t sure what to do so he did the first thing which came to his mind after reaching a counter - he asked Bucky which tea he preferred. It wasn’t the most brilliant nor imaginative idea but tea always did sound like a nice solution. At least his Ma had taught him so.

“You’re strange, Steve.”

“Why this time?”

With warm mugs in their hands they placed themselves comfortably on a tiny sofa, dim light from the kitchen behind their backs. It created a nice atmosphere, especially with the view from the window taken into account. Evening sky, barely seen above buildings, slowly turning from red to black was aesthetically pleasing to Steve’s eyes. Even Bucky seemed to be somewhat content with that image as it took him a while to start talking.

“I haven’t been drinking tea for ages,” he finally spoke, eyes turning away from the window and focusing on a dark liquid instead. “I don’t think we even have tea in our apartment.”

“Really?” Steve himself had a trouble with imagining a life without this simple drink. Sure, he could live without it for quite some time but once in a while he really needed to taste that once again; old habits die hard and enjoying tea each Sunday morning with his mom did its job.

“Dad is out more often than not, he only cares to buy coffee so that he can survive each morning.” Bucky shrugged, taking a sip of his green tea. “And I don’t really bother to buy things I’m not used to so yep, no tea in my house.”

“I think my mom won’t let you leave this place without trying each tea we own at least once,” he smiled mischievously, warm Earl Grey now in his mouth. “And let me tell you she loves tea so there is a variety of choice.”

“You want to make me a Brit, I swear.” Both of them burst in a laughter, trying not to spill their, still warm, drinks.

“Better don’t use that term near my mom, she will argue with you.” He didn’t really care but his Ma had a strong feelings for Ireland and still had a thing for being called British. It was an offense to her heritage’s pride, he supposed.

After a while they finished their teas and headed to Steve’s bedroom. It was quite early but even though Bucky wasn’t saying anything, he looked a bit tired. And no one said they had to go to sleep yet so they could as well be talking while laying in bed. Steve suspected his friend still had _a lot_ to say, actually. Bucky was a chatterbox.

“Wait, so where are you gonna sleep?” Bucky asked, concerned, as Steve informed him he should take the bed. The flat wasn’t big and they couldn’t afford a better one so there was very little space for occasional guests to take. The best solution Steve could come up with was giving his bed to his friend while he occupied the floor. There was a sofa left, too, but he tried to sleep on it once and his back didn’t take that too well. Wooden floor sounded much more comfortable.

“No way Stevie, I won’t let you,” Steve tried to explain himself once again but Bucky stopped listening. Instead, he threw all pillows and duvets and blankets on the floor, arranging them into somewhat comfy looking pile. “Now, that’s better.”

“But you put your own stuff here! Won’t you be, I don’t know, cold at night?”

“I’m gonna sleep right next to you, dumb-o.” Oh. So they were going to sleep together in that hill of pillows.

Steve wanted to protest because how could he let his guest sleep on the floor? But once Bucky lied down, there was no way he could pick him up or change his mind. He was too goddamn stubborn. Not that Steve wasn’t himself. He was stubborn. Probably even more than his friend. Though there couldn’t be anything good out of two dogged people arguing so he took a few calming breaths and agreed on Bucky’s solution.

Soon enough, they were both laying next to each other in a white mess made of pillows and duvets, white ceiling above colored with yellow and red lights from the street. Bucky was talking and talking and talking. About his new school and how he despised his Math teacher. How he didn’t have any close friend out there because he didn’t care to make one at the beginning and now seemed too late. About a telescope his dad gave him for his birthday. How lonely he was feeling out there, partially from his own stupidity. And Steve was listening. To all of it.

 

Even though the next day was rather calm and uneventful, the day after that started rather exciting. His mom made pancakes with blueberries for all of them. Steve loved those and his Ma knew it. No wonder she prepared them on his birthday, making him happy from the very beginning of a day was so much like her.

“How about going on Coney Island boys?” she asked them after they helped her with cleaning up. Bucky looked somewhat excited but remained silent, not wanting to speak up for Steve. However, Steve was more than willing to go on Coney Island. Even though he was aware how long his mom had to save up for such a gift.

They left almost immediately. Both Steve and his mom were aware today was gonna be a rather crowded day. The sooner they arrived to have some fun, the bigger chance for shorter queues. Steve hated queues and waiting with having nothing to do - he was unfortunately very impatient. Sometimes he could swallow his annoyance and wait but people blabbering all around him, pushing him because they hadn’t spotted him on time and basically standing two hours in a sun was successfully handicapping that mission.

As he suspected, Coney Island was bursting at the seams, adults and children altogether standing in twisting lines. It wasn’t even noon and sun was already shining brightly and with enormous amounts of heat. Here and there toddlers were crying while most of the noise was made by either irritating music or people’s screams.

Happy Birthday, Steve.

“How about lemonade as you wait in here?” his mom was really thoughtful. He nodded as she went away, leaving him and Bucky in one of the lines. Soon enough did she come back, handing them cold lemon-flavored drinks. It didn’t matter it was not exactly a lemonade. Those were liquids. Cold liquids. And they, or at least Steve, were thirsty from waiting in a never-ending queue.

Luckily enough Bucky was right next to him, complaining for them both and making him forget each time for whole two seconds why he was even annoyed. That’s why the next hour or so passed much quicker for him. Then both of them were screaming from joy and intense emotions for about three minutes.  All that standing and waiting probably was not worth it but it was Steve’s first time on that particular ride. He finally was tall enough. _Finally._ And his friend enjoyed his first visit on Coney Island nevertheless so. It was somewhat of a win-win.

His mom was waiting for them with cotton candy, all big, pink and fluffy. Even though she didn’t say anything, Steve knew deep in his guts that they were slowly about to leave. Not because they were already out of money but because his mom’s condition worsened. Nothing surprising, taking the heat and noise into consideration. She always felt worse in crowded places. As if less space around her was shrinking her lungs and making them crazy about that.

They wandered a little all around the place, Bucky trying himself in a shooting range. Twice. The third time he actually won something. It was a small plush dog, one ear blue and other one pink, the rest of his tiny body pure white. Strange toy, indeed, but Steve couldn’t help but smile when Bucky gave it to him. It was a simple gesture but it made him happy nonetheless.

Soon enough they left, Steve assuring his Ma over and over again he had fun. It was true so it wasn’t like he was lying. He just felt bad knowing she would sacrifice her well-being for a few more rides if he asked to. So they left. Simple as that. Instead, they had ice cream in a much less noisy park, all that green soothing their senses after loud and bright carousels. And then they were back again in their flat, his Ma slowly preparing something for the evening. It was fourth of July, after all. Fireworks and US-themed food were essential almost as much as being together and his mom knew that.

While she was bustling in the kitchen, he and Bucky were idling on the sofa. They tried to help but she insisted on doing all of the preparations herself and in that mater there was no arguing with her. Steve had to take his stubbornness after someone, right?

“Since we are not doing anything right now, I’ve gotta give you something,” he rushed to the bedroom as he spoke, sound of rooting reaching Steve’s ears. In no time did Bucky come back, a small package in his hands. “Happy Birthday, Stevie.”

Knowing his friend, Steve could receive basically everything. Its weight and shape left maybe four or five guesses in Steve’s mind. However, he was still surprised when he unwrapped his birthday present. It was a professional sketchbook with pretty front cover; poison ivy painted at the bottom, vanishing into an inky sky full of stars. Steve was speechless for a minute or two but when he finally looked at his friend, he knew. The cover was entirely hand-made and that realization made him sink into cushions even more.

“You like it?”

“I-“ he tried to say that actually no, he didn’t like it. He _loved_ it. But his voice failed him. “Yes, it’s beautiful.” His answer made Bucky smile, anxiousness leaving his features. Steve wondered why he was worried. He could give him a torn paperback and he would be genuinely happy about that.

“I will make a good use of that,” a soft smile on his face as he placed himself comfortable on the sofa, Bucky sitting nearby. Steve didn’t really know what or even if he should say something more. The sketchbook looked pricey. The density of paper only assured him it wasn’t one of those cheapish notebooks but an actual, decent sketchbook made for rather professional use. God, what was Bucky even thinking buying him such? He wasn’t that good, he didn’t deserve such a gift.

Sun was slowly setting and by the time it reached the horizon, his mom had been ready to celebrate as well as most of people in the neighborhood. He didn’t need to see them to know that, gleeful laughs perfectly audible from the street. His Ma made some cookies and let them decorate them with white, red and blue icing. Not that they were going to last long enough to be marveled over.

When they were done, all three of them rushed to the street as fireworks started to explode in the sky. It was quite a view, the whole New York celebrating by coloring navy sky with a glaring rainbow of sparks. Everybody was cheering, screaming and laughing out of joy, wishing all the best as if it was New Year. In Steve’s opinion his birthday was much better than the end of the year, mostly because it was warm. Cold air was not a good thing for his lungs and each winter had to remind him that.

Now, however, he could indulge himself in a hot summer night which was slowly coming closer, sky almost pitch black behind a curtain of fireworks. After a while they came back inside, a better part of cookies disappearing within a minute. His mom didn’t say a word, letting them eat sweets so late because it was his birthday. A small exception from basic rules. He loved those tiny lapses. He loved his mom, basically.

“What are you gonna do now?” Bucky asked as he took a solid bite of a cookie with red star on it. Steve looked at him, wondering about the answer. It was too early to go to bed and too late to go outside and wander around Brooklyn.

Then, a tender smile quirked on his face. “Draw you.”

 

Next days were filled with eating remaining cookies, strolling all around Brooklyn and talking. Lots of talking, actually. Bucky was probably taking his chance to finally blabber to another human being in an open and sincere manner. Steve didn’t mind, too. He was glad someone is willing to talk to him since some subjects couldn’t be brought up with his mom or Mr. Miller, no matter how much he liked them. What was funny though, said old man seemed to have taken to Bucky. He reminded him of his younger brother when he was a kid, he told them once as they dropped by. Mr. Miller was a nice man and Steve wondered why some people called him a weirdo. But, as he perfectly knew, most of his peers called him weird, too. Maybe it was some kind of weirdoes-bonding charm, bringing all strange people into one place so they can meet and feel less outstanding. Bucky, after all, was an odd kid deep inside, too. The fact he was asking Steve to give him some sketches so that he can keep them was a fine proof for that.

Steve would love to spend more time with Bucky but after an idle and happy week harsh reality slaps him with its claws. He cannot afford visiting his friend, at least not this summer. Bucky said there is a high chance he will need to move out again, too. No matter how he looked at it, the result remained the same. He had to say goodbye to Bucky for another year, letters the only way to stay in touch. For now, at least.

His mom liked Bucky and was somewhat sad he had to go back. She said that one afternoon she had been feeling as if she had two sons. It was not a scold nor a complaint. There was fondness in her voice, as if more children meant more love and warm feelings for her.

Bucky liked her, too. He told him he wished his own mom was at least half as kind and gentle as Steve’s. A delicate sadness darkened his features, only to be gone a minute after. Steve still had troubles with fully understanding how Bucky had been feeling this whole time, having no close friends out there and no adults he could trust either. He said nothing about that but Steve felt it must be horrible and difficult to talk about. So he didn’t push. Instead, he was trying to come up with interesting and funny ideas so that his friend could keep his mind preoccupied, as far from unpleasant reality as possible.

Wasn’t their summer like that, after all? Closing themselves in a bubble of smiles and laughter for a week, cutting ties with grey reality for as long as possible. Steve wondered if all that tender smiles and mischievous comments weren’t a way to escape constant relocations. Bullying. Loneliness.

“So…” Bucky’s voice brought him back to Earth, back to the station where three of them were standing. Physically tearing apart. “I’m gonna write to you from the new place as soon as we get there, ‘kay?”

“Sure,” he answered and then let himself be pulled into strong hug. He wished he could stay like that forever. “I wish you could stay longer, though.”

“Me too, Stevie.” Once again that melancholic expression showed up on his face, making Steve’s inside twitch. “But hey, see you next summer, I hope?”

Steve hoped that, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think my life is such a dark place I need to fill it with something cute and light to make it more beareble. In other words prepare yourself for even more adorable innocence and all that kind-of-tooth-rotting-fluff.
> 
> Big thankies to my [beta](http://twitter.com/sapereauso), once again!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Body issues

“Hey, Stevie!” Bucky grinned as he approached him, previous fatigue suddenly eased to minimum. “How was your journey?”

Long. Horrible. Exhausting. Being sandwiched between massive loud people. No air conditioning whatsoever.

“Could’ve been worse,” he answered with a tiny smile, Bucky taking a backpack almost the size of Steve. “I’m glad I’m finally here, though.”

“We ain’t exactly where we should, there is still a short ride ahead.” Such an explanation caused a mild scowl on Steve’s face, each limb of his lanky body screaming from stiffness. High temperature was not much of a help, too. “Come on, my aunt’s friend won’t be waiting for us forever.”

Soon enough they saw an old robust man, grey beard covering half of his face. He shook Steve’s hand, almost crushing it. Only then did they pack up their belongings and themselves into a car, an engine cracking and clacking during the ride.

Steve still had a bit of a trouble processing the fact he was out there, somewhere in Pennsylvania, almost four hours away by bus from his home. Even more when he added current ride to it, an ocean of trees and rural landscape flashing behind a window. First, when Bucky mentioned he was probably going to pay a visit to his aunt this summer, he felt sad. Somehow disappointed. But then his friend asked if he wanted to join him for week or so in the countryside. Only Bucky’s aunt, he and Steve on a tiny homestead. After a long talk with his mom, he was more than willing to jump straight into the first possible bus, even though it was only May.

His enthusiasm lasted till the second he took a sit in a bus, a sudden wave of anxiety washing all over him and making him wonder if that was actually what Bucky wanted. Doubts were slowly filling his guts, sweating adults surrounding him and making him feel even worse. Was he really wanted at Bucky’s aunt’s place? Was said aunt really okay with his stay? Wouldn’t he be a burden to her? Or worse, to Bucky?

A sign with “Woodward” flashed behind the window, a quick nudge from his friend informative enough. That was their destination.

“I think you gotta love it here,” his voice all cheerful and excited, eyes almost sparkling with joy. “It feels like a camp we’ve been to but no bullies in sight.”

“Only old people, animals and nature.” A driver said, his voice gentle and kind. It was weird when paired with his appearance. “And a grumpy postman Eddie.”

“Why is he mentioned separately?”

“Trust me kiddo, you if you had ever met him, you would know.” Steve therefore restrained himself from asking further questions, assuming that Eddie had to be a local legend. Such cases were usually out of reasonable explanations.

Soon enough the car stopped, all worrying noises gone. Steve’s ears were ringing for a moment or two, that sudden silence overwhelming. Their surrounding seemed incredibly calm and quiet, a green land riddled with houses here and there. Blue sky above them spelled a prefect summer weather, all hot and sunny, no rain allowed.

Bucky helped Steve with his baggage, complaining all the way about him being too precautious and stuff. He would agree, actually, if he didn’t know half of the said luggage was filled with things his Ma decided on. In some matters, for example his health, she was even more stubborn than Steve. And people still dared to doubt he took that after her.

“We’re back!” A loud voice echoed in a stocked room, only after a minute or two Steve realizing they were in a living room. “Aunt!”

“I’m coming!” A few loud slams occurred and then they saw her, small silhouette with curly hair and freckles, leaning on a doorframe. “I was preparing a dinner for us.”

“Auntie, you should be resting.” Bucky’s voice accusatory, a worried tinge resonating as well.

“I have a twisted ankle and a hay fever, not a life-threatening illness,” only after she said that did Steve noticed a dressing on her leg, white material standing out on her tanned skin. “And that must be Steven!”

Blue eyes shot straight to woman’s face, her figurine quickly approaching him in spite of an unwieldy leg. He had trouble telling how old she was, all features indicating a person in her late twenties. Dark hair with ginger reflections emphasized her eyes, two hazel almonds now looking at him with warmth and patience. He had to ask Bucky if it was okay to draw his aunt later.

“Good afternoon, Miss...”

“Just call me Aunt Marcy,” she said cheerfully, tenderness beaming from her smile. “I wish I could show you around but I bet James will do it himself.” A meaningful wink at Bucky’s direction made him snort, Steve confused. “Anyway, be at home, honey.” And then she was gone, limping back to the place Steve assumed was a kitchen.

“Your aunt seems nice.” Said Steve when Bucky, as his aunt said, was showing him around, starting from the bedroom. It was a small room with a bed and a dresser, a window taking most of one wall, a pretty garden behind it.

“Oh, she’s great until you start a touchy subject,” he answered while waving his hand, asking Steve to follow him. “Then she’s a literal devil of discussion and belittling your opinion.”

The house seemed quite petit from the outside and actually wasn’t much bigger on the inside. A spacious but crowded living room occupied most of it, a bathroom, a kitchen and two remaining rooms little yet weirdly cozy because of it.

“Also sorry in advance but I’ve promised we’ll help here and there,” Steve’s bed creaked pleasantly under his weight, Bucky grabbing a stool to face him. “Nothing too heavy for your lungs, though.”

“Man, that’s fine.” His expression tender and voice joyful, a little tinge of surprise in it, too. “I’d probably wander around and try to help, anyway.”

“Stevie, you’re too goddamn nice sometimes, ya know?” A quick nudge caused a chuckle, both of them perfectly aware of Steve’s good nature. And short temper which had a perfect occasion to show up in only few hours.

Summer sun was slowly yet inevitably setting down, previously green landscape now golden. Sky above them a living palette, one minute intense blue and lilac the next. Steve adored such views, the artistic side of him waking up to life each time he spotted something pretty. Judging by the amount of feelings and silent gasps wherever he went, a whole Woodward counted as such. If he was told to do as he pleased, he would probably just sit here or there and sketch. Paint, if he had an access to watercolors.

However, one thing derailed his idyll.

“Are you sure Satan didn’t posses you?” Blue eyes focused on Bucky, Steve’s gaze intense and somewhat angry. He would love to sit still and enjoy apple pie Aunt Marcy made. Unfortunately, to his own disgrace, it was physically not possible.

“Yes, I’m _sure.”_ Gritted teeth weren’t much of a help, his hand moving quickly in all directions, a piece of pie in danger of being tossed off the table. “I’m also sure there is Satan himself trying to kill me right now.”

“Steve, it’s just a mosquito.”

“ _Satan.”_ A word full of poison grinded out with spite, his gaze murderous.

The thing was, he didn’t really mind bugs. They were an integral part of the environment and there was very little he could do about that. So one day he just accepted them and moved on, ignoring them, trying to live side by side, call it as you wish. Even two years ago, when he had been spending two whole weeks in the middle of nowhere surrounded by nature, a feeling of hate towards those little beings was not present. And today, for the first time in so long he had actual trouble to recall, he would do everything, _anything,_ to have a simple pleasure of smashing that flying Lucifer to a bloody pulp.

“How did you even survive that camp if you’re so sensitive about being bitten, jeez.” Bucky rolled his eyes and indulged himself in the remains of his apple pie, a previously big piece now so tiny it barely lasted for two bites.

Steve restrained himself from commenting on that, his whole body terribly itchy, almost painful. Exasperated growls echoed over and over again, that irritation of his fueled each time an inauspicious buzz resonated anywhere near him.

Soon enough they headed to beds, Bucky placing himself on a couch as all guest’s privileges now belonged to Steve. He was ready to argue but icy blues remained stern until he gave up, that soft bed so different from his own out there in Brooklyn.

 

If an annoyance in a body of mosquito wasn’t waking him up in every hour or two, maybe he would be quite rested. Or at least on a verge of functionality as Bucky knocked at his door not long after the sun decided to rise. Sky was still a fine mixture of navy, purple and pink when Steve followed his friend to the tiny kitchen, a smell of scrambled eggs waking his stomach. He had no clue why Bucky came for him so early but soon enough both of them walked out of the house, morning chill seeping through clothes and making Steve shiver. In two minutes or so did they reached a hencoop, Bucky explaining their task. Collecting eggs from hens seemed easy but as it turned out, it could be a really problematic thing to do. Especially when all sitters decided on attacking you with their wings, a concerned rooster coming to help them. When they were finally free, Steve started to realize how grateful he was for being able to buy eggs in a store. Simple sunny side-ups suddenly tastier as he now knew how much effort he had to put into collecting the main ingredient.

In Steve’s opinion it was still fairly early but as it turned out most of the neighborhood was long ago up, Aunt Marcy smiling bright as they entered through kitchen door. He had always thought of himself as a rather morning bird than a night owl but now he could reconsider it, everyone around him brisk and all. Meanwhile, he was struggling with suppressing a yawn, all previous work still not enough to shake his drowsiness off. Steve hoped that Bucky had either something in mind to do for the rest of a day or that he would announce completely free time, the soft bed only waiting for lanky body to drop on it. Each option sounded equally nice, a shot of energy or switching his consciousness off much better than remaining in half-asleep state of both body and mind.

“James, how about showing Steve around?” Hazel eyes on Bucky, delicate implication he should take care of his guest, his own gaze wandering all over the remains of yesterday’s apple pie. “I’m sure you didn’t show him everything yesterday.”

A drawer clunked firmly, two pair of blue eyes fixed on Aunt Marcy, a big knife in her hand pointed at Bucky. “Maybe you should take him outside? The weather is lovely.”

“Yeah, sure auntie.”

It was truly amazing how a one object could motivate them both to leave - they stopped only after reaching a forest’s merge. Sky slowly turning clear blue and sun well above the horizon, a deep taint of trees strangely intimidating. It wasn’t a plain color, all possible shades of green flickering just in front of Steve’s eyes – the overwhelming amount of bottle green spotted with fine mixture of apple and olive greens, arsenate with a bit of fairway visible here and there. A soothing palette.

“Any wishes?” his blue eyes really tried to focus on Bucky but all that green absorbed most of his attention, artistic senses sensitive as ever when he decided on shaking his head. “Okay, then. Follow me.”

Steve didn’t feel particularly prepared for a longer trip but he remained silent, his friend navigating them both through the endless sea of trees. An awe mixed with a feeling of being even more petit, different kinds of broad-leaved trees and conifers surrounding him neither like a shield or a wall. It felt more like an ancient spirit, something way beyond his comprehension, materialized in the body of trunks, branches and leaves. Many, many leaves. And each single one of them seemed to want to communicate something, to tell Steve a secret he wasn’t supposed to know. An eternal whisper of trees, never ending competition of outshouting other leaves. Even if they all were parts of the very same being.

His astonishment was rapidly replaced by terror when his foot didn’t meet solid ground, the whole body quickly wobbling forward. Only Bucky’s reflex saved Steve from hitting the ground.

“Hey, watch out Stevie!” a crooked grin on his face, Steve’s heart still beating inappropriately fast. “I know you’re a dreamer but I ain’t being by your side all the time to save you!”

“There is no need for that, thanks,” he answered back, cheeks flushing against his will, accelerated heart rate the reason behind it. “I can take care of myself.”

“Oh, _really?”_ That tone could mean two things. Bucky either had a nasty plan to make Steve talk back or he was just sarcastic to aggravate him, to make him do something dumb, something impulsive. No matter the cause, Steve was more than ready to prove Bucky otherwise.

In other words, Bucky got him and both of them knew that.

“Not to be mean but last time I checked you were on your way to kiss the ground.”

“But why did you stop me?” Arms crossed and gaze fixed, those light blues now becoming stormy. “Maybe it was my goal all along?”

“With all respect, Stevie, but I bet your standards can be _that low,”_ Buck’s grin even broader, pun slowly placing itself between them, Steve snorting a minute later. “I know, I know, bless my genius and all.”

“You’re a synonym of modesty, Buck.” Steve rolled his eyes and nudged his friend but he wasn’t peeved anymore. They continued their walk as if nothing had happened, Steve paying double attention to the ground beneath their feet. Acting like a goddamn damsel in distress was literally the last thing he wanted to do today. Or any day, really.

“No, but real talk,” Bucky continued after a minute or two, his gaze shifting from the path. “You gotta watch out, life is tough.”

“Save me the talk, dad.” Steve rolled his eyes one more time, this particular morning incredibly rich in that gesture. “I’m a careful kid. No need to scold me for something I ain’t even done.”

“I’m just giving you a piece of advice,” thick bushes got into his way, few tries before he finally managed to edge scratching branches aside. “Somebody oughta do it.”

Steve was about to say that actually no, he was perfectly fine by himself and Bucky needn’t worry but leaves slapped him right in the face before he had a chance. It took him exactly six seconds to realize what had just happened and another two to get coarse leaves out of his line of sight.

He expected Buck to laugh but the only thing he got was an unnerving “I told you” expression. At once he wished he had left those stupid branches on his face, everything better than proving his friend right so quickly and in such a humbling way.

“Did you want to tell me something?” if it was a casual situation, Steve would find Buck’s crooked grin somewhat entrancing but now was not a _casual situation._ It was a stingy teasing, a needle to his inner pride. It demanded revenge.

“Yes, I wanted to assure you I am much more adapted to life than you give me credit for.” A few small steps and was he standing in front of Bucky, unnerving smile still on his face. “I’m also ready to prove that.”

“Is that so?” Bucky’s sly expression was amusing but deep inside Steve already knew. He was doomed. At his own wish.

Shit.

 

“How is that supposed to prove I’m good at living,” he didn’t even try to make a question, his friend’s ridiculous idea way out of sensible reasoning.

Their small trip around the local woods was on hold, a sudden rush in Bucky’s behavior. He was hurrying Steve all the way back to household, Aunt Marcy nowhere to be seen. It didn’t bother him, though, all of his attention stolen by items in Steve’s bedroom. In the blink of an eye did he open some drawers, grab objects Steve failed to recognize and packed them up, simple black bag handed to him before he had a chance to object.

Then they left almost as quickly as they had arrived, Bucky telling Steve to follow and watch out for roots and such. It would be a hell damn easier if he wasn’t forced to carry a bag, his whole balance off because of it. He didn’t even know what was inside, leaving alone all of ideas where they could be going, Bucky the only enlightened person.

And now here he was, standing in his trunks at the bank of a river, three meters or so between him and water level. The bottom was invisible so stream could be either one or seven meters deep, there was no way to tell. However, Bucky seemed quite sure about that whole thing being _overall safe enough,_ Steve dared to use a nearby rope to gracefully, or artfully if he wished, jump.

“C’mon Stevie, don’t tell me you’re a chicken.” Buck’s nudging was no help at all, his annoyance only growing bigger with each passing minute as they stood there, steady water flow below the only calming thing. “Or that you’re… _a swagger.”_

“Move.” He knew he was being egged on. He was perfectly aware of it and yet he ended up clenching his bony fists around the thick line, Bucky mindfully giving him space for a run-up.

Steve took one deep breath, said a silent sorry to his mom and ran. The solid ground disappeared from under his feet, the firm grasp of the rope following soon after, speed the only remained thing.

Generally speaking, his fall was quite rapid. However, in Steve’s opinion, it lasted hours. Long, painful hours with an end in an unexpected hit, cold alarming his brain quicker than water pushing through his nostrils and further, into his lungs. Steve was brandishing his legs and arms, the light of a day closer and closer to his eyes and then, finally, he reached the surface, blissful breath ensuring.

He made it and he survived.

“Who is a swagger now!?” his yell echoing in the trees, murmuring water distorting the sound. Steve felt proud of himself, adrenaline pumping through his veins even after spotting oncoming Buck.

Steve had an impression he’s friend was more gracious and less wobbly than him but there was no way to confirm or deny it. His imagination could be playing with him, a quiet admiration often skewing the world around Bucky.

Dark strands of hair stuck to the grinning face as he resurfaced, water dripping from them in streams. Bucky looked overall happy, pride beaming from his features and making his appearance unacceptably captivating. If Steve had a sketchbook nearby, he would definitely grab it and start to create, his heart racing from a sudden excitement for such an idea.

Bucky brushed his wet hair back, icy blues carefully observing Steve for a minute or two. He didn’t know what to do with himself, his friend’s gaze strangely intimidating and somewhat… judgmental. Not entirely sure whether he was perceived in positive or negative aspects, anxiety scratching his insides the longer Bucky looked at him. Did he do something wrong? Did he look weird? Or, what made something inside him twitch unpleasantly, awfully? A gaunt body surely was not a pleasant view, protruding ribs making him appear sick and malnourished.

Come to think of it, Bucky hadn’t had a chance to see him without a shirt and trousers on since the summer camp, a remarkable stay at nurse’s cabin a direct result of near-drowning experience . Steve did grow taller since then but, as it was _his_ body, it couldn’t have gone right. His legs were longer but even thinner, two sticks threatening to snap at any moment. Same applied to his disproportionate arms, overall outlook on him rather negative, a distaste of some kind if he were to guess.

And now he was standing in front of his best friend, all shortcomings clearly visible in spite of water covering half of them. In comparison to Bucky, Steve was flawed. Defective, even. His friend, on the other hand, seemed nothing but perfect, puberty treating him right and gently, all flaws coming across as practically inexistent. It was unfair, though Steve could blame no one. He appeared wrong in so many ways from the very beginning of his life. Expecting this to change in his teens was more than ridiculous.

“Hey, pal,” his voice concerned and strangely near, Steve lifting his head only to spot Bucky a few centimeters in front of him. “Are you okay?”

Define ‘okay’, he wanted to say but his mouth knew better than that. “Yeah, I’m fine.” It even shaped into a reassuring smile, all insecurities slowly pushed aside.

Spoiling Buck’s fun was an unimaginable idea, horrible and revolting at the same time.

“Do you have anything more planned or was that all?” A hidden tease in his voice had to stung Bucky because he instantly wore that crooked grin, expression all but innocent.

“If you’re so willing to prove something more, who am I to stop you?”

His tone spelled more semi-dangerous tasks, questionable explanations and tons of fun. Steve couldn’t wait to see what else Bucky had in mind for today’s afternoon.

 

Sun barely above the horizon when they finally returned, wet trail wherever their feet happened to step. Warmth had been slowly yet inevitably leaving summer air since an hour or so, but it didn’t stop them from beaming and strolling up the path in nothing but their trunks, a large towel loosely wrapped around their shoulders. It surely looked comical, two soaked boys trying to navigate like that through field grass, one short and one tall to make it even more ridiculous.

Aunt Marcy spotted them through the kitchen window but spared them the talk. Bucky looked quite grateful for that and because he was content, as was Steve. They quickly changed into something warmer and headed once again to the kitchen, auntie putting a pie into an oven.

“James, Mr. Collins’s asked if you wanted to go help him in the lumber mill. I said you’d do that with pleasure.” Bucky’s head instantly dropped, Steve almost hearing that exasperation boiling inside of his friend. He’d known him long enough to know that such a situation where he had little to say about his own actions, was making him irked.

“How about me helping, too?” Steve cut in, a feeling of being left out or treated on different terms slipping into his mind. He didn’t like that.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, Steven,” her hazel eyes suddenly warmer and filled with concern, an apologetic smile on her features. “There’s lots of dust and particulates, it would do no good to your lungs.”

“Auntie’s right.” Icy blues turned away from the floor, resting on Steve instead. Observing his reaction. “I’d appreciate your help out there but I’d much more see you breathing and in one piece.”

“Does that mean you think I’d willingly step onto a buzz saw?” His sarcastic tone was supposed to make Bucky laugh, snort at least. Instead, he earned a worried look from Aunt Marcy and an eye-rolling in a shade of blue. “Oh, c’mon!”

“I ain’t making the rules pal,” a quick shrug as he was leaving the room, Steve now alone with a somewhat intimidating, freckled woman.

She probably saw his awkwardness because as soon as Bucky left, she opened one of the drawers and handed him something. It turned out to be a parer.

“How about helping _me_ out with cooking, sweetheart?” Her tender smile looked promising, two hazel almonds looking at him with patience and encouragement. It would be rude of him to turn down such a proposition. Besides, he had nothing else to do anyway.

Aunt Marcy, even though looking nothing but tender, gracious and cheery, turned out to be a tough woman. A talkative one, too. Steve had a vague theory about garrulousness being coded in Barnes’ family’s DNA. She was telling him about living out here, in Woodward, how difficult it was on one days and how rewarding and calming on others. She mentioned countless situations featuring campers, their attendants and locals, some of those funny and some unbelievable, human behavior surprising Steve once again.

Before he had a chance to notice, they were already done, meat being fried and vegetables mixed together into a salad of some kind. All of that only waiting to be put on a table and eaten in a friendly atmosphere of a family gathering. Steve had an impression that it should be like that, at least. He had no clue where did this come from, though he didn’t seem to bother too much. The only thing that mattered was waiting for Bucky’s return so that everything would on its place. Just as it should.

 

Steve was surprised to discover that he had been woken up by something different than mosquito this time. Heck, he was actually astonished it’d been possible to wake him up at all, eventful day taken into consideration. Or even a week since he barely had a chance to sleep properly since the very beginning of his stay in Woodward. Days seemed to be slowly passing by but neither he or Bucky noticed the passage of time itself; just as if someone enchanted their eyes, one blink equal few hours.

Time is, by nature, a fluid thing. One might perceive it differently than usual if circumstances changed. For example, if it was filled with full of fun, it probably would pass quicker. At least such a thing happened and still was happening to Steve, only two days ahead of him. If he could, he would stay in here with Bucky and his aunt for a whole summer but life, especially Steve’s life, usually was deaf for people’s wishes.

Steve had a cloudy impression he would become deaf himself if an unidentified annoyance didn’t stop banging around his head. Said nuisance turned out to be Bucky, crooked smile scarcely visible in a dim light of a pocket torch.

“Oh, so you’re awake.”

“Huh?”

“C’mon, get out of the bed!” Steve barely understood what he was asked to do but a hand with a tiny bit of force helped him get up, wooziness all over his features. He was sleepy, tired and now confused. “Put somethin’ on and follow me!”

“Huh?” He repeated himself but did as he was told to, soon enough his gaunt silhouette a few steps behind a firmer one holding the torch.

As it quickly rendered, Steve was guided straight into the barn, wooden construction blending into inky sky with an incredible perfection. He was kind of curious whether he would bump into one of its walls if there was no light or not, yet another thing was keeping his mind occupied, too. A more important one, somebody could say.

“Why are you dragging me here?”

“Speak quieter, Stevie,” Bucky replied, a stream of light now violating his eyes. “Auntie won’t be too happy if she finds us out of beds.”

“So why are we even out of them?” Steve groaned, a few big steps to stand with Bucky face-to-face. Or maybe rather face-to-sternum. He groaned even more, icy blues looking at him from above.

“Do you remember how we were stargazing two years ago? I’ve thought about doin’ something similar.”

Steve looked at him with moderate amazement, missing pieces finally falling into their places. Suddenly, a wave of nostalgia flowed through the mind of his, memories vivid as ever. Sneaking out of wooden cabin, carefully watching out for any signs of adults and approaching the common room, scent of nature calming in the night summer air... And sky full of stars above their heads, twinkling dots sometimes falling into another part of outer space.

It took him a while to come back to Earth but only one blink of an eye to get a mini heart attack, Bucky’s face only an inch or two away. When did he approach him? How did that even happen without Steve noticing?

 “C’mon Stevie, you ain’t even seen what I’ve prepared,” it was probably only his imagination but he could swear his best friend smirked. It wouldn’t be a bad thing if it wasn’t _that_ smirk, the one Bucky used to _allure_ people.

It didn’t make any sense to Steve, why he would bother to use that on him. It was illogical. It had to be a creation of his imagination, then.

Even though this whole situation was simply odd, he decided to quietly follow his friend. Bucky said he had prepared something, it would be rude of Steve not to take a glimpse at it, at the very least.

The insides of the barn were even darker than the world outside, no stars above to give a light. Steve was carefully mimicking Bucky’s movements, a dim memory of different, and often sharp, objects  scattered all around the place suddenly vivid in his mind.

Soon they reached a ladder, its levels leading them up, straight into an enormous amount of hay. The light of the torch didn’t stop on it but searched further until they ended climbing on yet another ladder, smaller one this time. Steve’s guts started to slightly panic as Bucky opened a trapdoor, facing the fact of being dragged to the barn’s roof unpleasant.

The roof itself was sheer so the fact that his friend managed to gather all that stuff out here made Steve amazed. Thick blanket and a thinner one, a few pillows and even snacks. All of that affixed in a mysterious way so it wouldn’t slide off the roof.

“Do I want to know how you did that?” He asked cautiously, amusement creeping into his voice anyway.

“No, but no worries, we won’t fall.” His smirk was _hearable_ so clearly Steve couldn’t help but chuckle, his feet following Bucky’s.

When he finally placed himself more comfortably than not, the view above him took his breath away. It’d been a long time since he had a chance to simply look at the night sky so clear and vivid, shining stars threatening to overwhelm his little mind.

Not to mention Bucky by his side, whose eagerness to share his knowledge about the universe was making a whole situation even more entertaining. Steve enjoyed stargazing but even that could not beat listening to excited Bucky up in that competition of relish.

The way he was speaking, articulating, smiling and laughing, all of it was nothing but heartwarming. Somebody said there is nothing better than listening to an excited person, than letting them know you are there to listen to them. Steve could agree. Sparks of pure joy in Bucky’s eyes did as much as lifting corners of Steve’s mouth, once again. It worked each time and he didn’t really have a good head for counting all of them.

“Man, I’d love to show you Cancer.”

“Huh?” Steve blinked, coming back from a zoning out. “Cancer?”

“Yeah, your zodiac sign,” Bucky explained just as if nothing happened, Steve eyeing him from the side. “I think it’s cool to be able to see that in the sky. It’s just as if a tiny part of you was strictly and openly connected to the Universe.”

Steve chuckled to that, not being able to come up with a proper reply. It was so… _Bucky._ All hyped up by such dumb stuff and yet, somewhat… adorable? For that moment it was the best word Steve could think of, so yes. Bucky was _adorable_ in his bucky-ness, though he didn’t dare to say it out loud.

Later on, when cookies snatched from kitchen were all gone and sleepiness started to creep into their bodies, they got up and let themselves be carried by a mysterious force straight into a massive pile of hay. It was dry, somewhat warm and at that moment definitely the closest thing to collapse into.

Steve nodded off real quick, the scent of summer filling his lungs.

 

The next morning started with figuring out what was his hair and what was hay, these two unfortunately very alike. A whole process was accompanied by aunt Marcy’s grumbling and Bucky’s responses, those two arguing about sneaking out in the middle of a night and staying out in a barn. Steve, as a guest, was out of this fire-exchange, however he could clearly feel that scold in the air was also directed at him.

“But nothing happened so what’s the deal?” He rolled his eyes and sat down, Steve shyly coming out of the bathroom to join him. It was high time they ate breakfast or something.

“It is not about what happened, it’s about what _could_ have happened!” She exclaimed loudly, a pitcher with juice in danger of being broken by her lively gesticulation. “Why can’t you understand that if something _failed_ you _both_ could fall and break your necks?”

A minute long bout between icy blues and warm hazels occurred, accompanied by complete silence and Steve’s utter uneasiness. Only then did auntie sigh, her silhouette suddenly smaller and older.

“I’m just worried about you, James. I’m glad you both had fun but please, be more considerate next time, okay?” All of that care and worry made her look more her age, tiny crow’s feet around her tender eyes.

“Okay.” Bucky nodded, giving up his haughty behavior. At least most of it. “And sorry for making you worried, auntie.”

She shook her head, a small smile quirking on her features. Then she put last two plates on a table, breakfast officially beginning. She even turn on a radio, atmosphere lightening up even more.

“ _I'll be there and you'll be near, and that's the deal my dear._ ” Steve was near choking on his glass of juice as Bucky suddenly took a brave attempt to sing along. Or at least pretending to. _“There over, here under! You'll never have to wonder, we can always play by ear, but that's the deal my dear.”_

Some of his beverage left his mouth and splayed on the table, a long sigh of disapproval  accompanying Bucky’s laughter.

In spite of an awkward beginning, the rest of a day remained calm and rather cheery, only a prospect of inevitable getting off pinching them from the inside. The longer Steve was thinking about it, the more convinced he was that with each summer he wanted more. More time. More fun. More Bucky. He had a dim impression his feelings were sometimes slightly crossing the line and becoming something weird and twisted, all thanks to the enormously long separation. For that moment, Bucky was his only real friend and being able to see him only once a year was driving him crazy at times.

The fact Bucky was also the only person, despite his Ma, who could read him like an open book didn’t help.

“What’s up, pal?” He wondered, after lifting his eyes from the ground, whether to be honest or not. He was bad at lying, sure. But sometimes talking about feelings seemed out of his capability.

“If I said I don’t wanna go back home, would I be special?” Bucky looked at him, crooked smile on his face as he came up to him and ruffled his hair.

“No, but I understand,” it was relatively early, sun still high above the horizon and yet, out there in a forest, Steve felt as if day was coming to an end, a perspective of his return suddenly overwhelming. “But, you know…”

“Yeah?”

“ _Lucky you were born that far away,”_ he intonated, a somewhat sly smile on his face. _“So we could both make fun of distance_.”

“Are you really quoting _Shakira_ right now?”

“Are you gonna join me?”

Steve rolled his eyes as explicitly as he could and only then did he continue what Bucky had started: “ _Lucky that I love a foreign land for the lucky fact of your existence_.”

He didn’t consider himself big fan of her nor her songs but this particular one was in the radio on repeat for long enough for him to remember a few lines. It turned out to be a good thing since Bucky would not shut up until they found a nice spot, the sketchbook under Steve’s arm ready to use.

 

 

 _Baby I would climb the Andes solely,_  
   _to count the freckles on your body._  
 _Never could imagine there were only,_  
 _ten million ways to love somebody._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music used in fic this time is ol' good [Shakira - Whenever, Wherever](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=weRHyjj34ZE)
> 
>  
> 
> I really have nothing to say about such a gap between this chapter and the last one. Maybe that I'm sorry because, trust me, I didn't plan it that way.
> 
> This is probably the fluffiest chapter so far and from the next one things start to... get darker and less sweet. Time to finally end that carousel of sweet innocence, right?
> 
> Big **thank you** to my usual [beta](https://twitter.com/sapereauso) for both checking my work and not killing me for my mistakes!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: insomnia, parent's illness & death, grief, dealing with emotions of various kind

If he hadn’t encountered Mike and Bruce on his way to the library, he would have called it a good day.

It started so well, after all. There was no pain or strange sensations in his body whatsoever, for the first time since what? Two months? Three? He couldn’t even tell anymore. Later on, Peggy was kind enough to help him with his geography assignment and Steve really enjoyed time spent with her, no matter what they were doing in the given moment. And there weren’t many of them. Last time before today had taken place when she had been ridiculing his efforts in PE classes. Not in the mean way, though. It was friendly teasing, this specific kind where you couldn’t exactly tell if they were telling the truth or not, but not minding it nevertheless.

So yes, today had started overall nice and promising.

But everything turned to shit. As it always did.

He was on his way to local library, hoping to see an e-mail from Bucky, when Mike and his buddy walked from behind the corner, clearly looking for someone to mock. Welcome in Steve’s life where every single bully seems to sense him from miles away, consciously or not navigating in his direction. He really would pay a little fortune, sell a kidney maybe, just to get rid of that twisted and somewhat natural magnetism.

Right now he was running like a madman, praying for a shelter of any kind, his blond hair waving in all possible directions as if hindering his vision was a fun thing to do. Only after a longer while did he dare do stop and listen to his surroundings. Nothing suspicious came to his attention. He was too precautious to just go back so he took a longer route just to minimize a possibility of meeting those two again, shallow breathes slowly stabilizing.

When he finally reached longed-for doors of the library, an excitement started to rise within him again. Since Bucky was given his own computer, and local library owned some too, it was only natural their correspondence would become more frequent. Sure, high school and helping out at home didn’t leave as much free time as Steve would like, but he couldn’t complain. There was just enough of it to e-mail Barnes and draw. Sometimes to pay a visit to a doc, too.

The computer made a whizzing sound, its screen brightened up and in no time did he log into his mailbox, a notice making him smile.

> **_From:_ ** _[jbbucky@hotmail.com](mailto:jbbucky@hotmail.com)  
>  **Topic:** Oh, cmon!_
> 
> _Ok, so let me tell you these pains sound serious pal, make sure to take care of yourself! I kno’  u don’t wanna worry your mom and all but for real, it won’t be good for anybody if you suddenly fainted because of the pain in the chest. If by any chance I get to know you did something dumb, I’d make sure to pay you a visit, even on the fucking another end of the world, just to yell at you in person. No kiddin’. ;-P_
> 
> _Also that Peggy sounds like a hell of a girl! :-P Don’t get me wrong, everybody has their taste and all, but c’mon! You deserve better than being teased all your life from two sides, like this position is already taken by me and I ain’t goin’ to let some pretty girl take it without a complaint! ;-)_

Steve couldn’t resist but smile, Bucky so incredibly genuine in his e-mail. As always.

> _I seriously wish I could see you sooner than in June, this place is literally_ killing _me. :-( Everyone is so fucking phony and snobbish and I, as a sensitive guy who needs very little in life, can’t fucking stand it. No one is talking to me because they find me funny or something, they only want to have contacts everywhere where it’s beneficial. I can_ feel it, _Stevie. It’s hard to breath here, for God’s sake._
> 
> _Let me know how things are goin’ for ya and remember not to let that pretty girl step over you (so often) LOL. I don’t know when I’ll answer you since my dad is taking me somewhere and the chance there would be internet is near 0. In other words: be descriptive as hell, please. I’d have something to do when I come back. :-P_

Steve’s humor dropped a bit but he decided to write a long e-mail nevertheless. Sure, Bucky wouldn’t answer him for some time, which irked him, but eventually he would and that mattered. He took deep breath and started writing, words naturally coming to his mind, arranging themselves into pretty sentences and phrases. Maybe a bit too detailed but Steve didn’t really care.

It was Bucky, after all.

 

Work had been tough today but even that couldn’t make him less worried about his Ma. Her state had been worsening each day, Steve was afraid that each of her coughs might be her last. When he came home, the air was heavy. Opening the window helped a bit with that overall stuffiness but didn’t change the mood; his Ma was laying still in her bed, chest peacefully going up and down the only indicator that she was alive.

Steve was sick of it all. The fact he couldn’t help more because of school and part time job. The fact he couldn’t afford the medical care his mother needed. The fact he himself was not in the best shape, insomnia and side effects of that asthma experimental treatment pestering. He couldn’t complain, though. At least not out loud and not in front of his mom. She had enough troubles herself, making her worried about him was the last thing both of them needed.

He put water on to make some herbal tea and a coffee, even though such a drink was rather dissuaded. He didn’t care. Nowadays there was so little he truly cared about, truth be spoken. And the only person who actually knew all of that, was Bucky.

“Living miles away from me,” Steve mumbled to himself, rubbing those tired eyes of his. Today really was harsh on him. “What a pity.”

Sometimes, he would love to go for a walk with Bucky. Complain about how tired he was. How worried he was. How much he wanted his mother safe and sound. How nice Peggy was. How much better he probably would be after treatment. Walking and talking were these two things which, when combined, could have an amazing impact on the people involved. Steve was literally heartbroken that he and his friend couldn’t do such a thing. The last time they had some time for each other and face to face was when? Three years ago? They were kids having fun on the countryside, life still looking promising then. Now both of them were seventeen and pressed with school work and other responsibilities. Steve dearly missed those idle days and, knowing Bucky, he missed them too.

He made drinks for him and his mom, washed the dishes, put laundry up and made sure his Ma felt as comfortable as possible before actually starting doing homework. If everything went alright, he would be able to go to bed before 1am. In the worst case scenario, he would fall asleep by the table, waking up somewhere around four just to move to bed and trying to fall sleep again till his alarm at six. Not that bad, he supposed, bony hand of his opening English text book.

 

Bucky responded to his e-mail after four days.

> **_From:_ ** _[jbbucky@hotmail.com](mailto:jbbucky@hotmail.com)  
>  **Topic:** Let me rest_
> 
> _Ok so if I was there, these assholes would be dead. I mean, maybe not dead-dead but somewhat-dead-like. Also that’s cool Peggy is helping you out but, I’m asking once again, have enough nuts to stop her from teasing you. It’s MY JOB. No exceptions, even for smart girls with pretty smiles._
> 
> _And maaaaan, I’m sorry to hear about your Ma and her state_ _:-(_ _I really hoped she would be better after that last visit! She’s such a great person and she honestly doesn’t deserve this shit. Keep me updated about her state, ok?_ _:-)_
> 
> _My ‘trip’ with dad was AWFUL. I mean, sure, taking your son for a mountain trip is great and all, but he must think really low of me if he thought I wouldn’t connect the dots. On our way home, we paid a visit to an outpost because dad took another route “on accident”. Yea,_ sure. _Of fucking course. I don’t want to ramble here like a madman but long story short he fucking wants us to move out._ Again. _It’d be what, third time this year??? I’m more than done with that shit. Oh, and he also wants me to join that one military school. AS IF I’M FUCKING ABOUT DOING THAT LOL. Being a soldier is literally the last fucking thing I want to do in life. I’m not even brave or noble or strong. I’m somewhat smart and handsome. And modest, of course._

Steve rolled his eyes on this one but bitter taste didn’t want to leave his mouth. He knew little about military schools but one thing he knew for sure. When somebody went there, there was little chance to go out whenever person wanted it. If Bucky was in such a place, chances that he would maintain regular contact with Steve would be around zero.

> _He thinks it’s a great idea but NOPE, IT’S NOT. How the fuck could it be? If he sends me there, I won’t visit you in June and I ain’t gonna let him. Hell nope. I haven’t seen ya in so long it drives me crazy. I won’t sacrifice seeing my pal just because he has imagined a fucked-up scenario for me. Uh-uh._
> 
> _On the bright side, we’re not going anywhere for at least three weeks so it means I can laze around and chat with ya more often_ _:-D_ _Let me know how’s life!_

Steve really couldn’t be so positive about this whole military-thing but, in the end, he smiled. Bucky’s email meant he missed Steve, too, and that he wanted to meet in June as much as Steve did. It was reassuring, knowing that for sure.

He didn’t sleep well last night and side effects were literally kicking his insides, but he somewhat managed to write an answer. It wasn’t too long but Steve really couldn’t care about that. It wasn’t like he had a whole afternoon to spare on sitting in the library and e-mailing with Bucky, too. He had an enormous amount of geography homework and an essay to write. Not to mention checking on his mother as her state had worsened even more.

It was somewhat depressing, the fact his best friend could just ‘laze around’ and he could not. It felt unfair. But, again, who was he to complain?

He never had much luck in life. The fact that he survived all these years still amazed him, as nature tends to get rid of faulty organisms. And he was one. He really was. But maybe he was somewhat strong because of all of that. He managed not to be killed by stronger kids and different illnesses, even despite his asthma and overall weak immune system. He still looked rather scrawny but the treatment he had undergone some time ago was slowly showing its results. Side effects weren’t only the pain in the chest or somewhere else in his body. A rapid change in hormones was one of those, too. Steve couldn’t complain about this one because it meant growing higher and broader, maybe gaining some more muscle tissue. That one really was not that bad.

He did some groceries on his way home, Mr. Miller smiling at him and trying to chat, as he always did when he noticed Steve. It was kind of him, Steve thought, even if he himself wasn’t in the mood for small talks.

When he finally made this to the front door, something was wrong. Not in the door itself but Steve could clearly feel _something_ was off. He slowly opened the door, as if someone was about to jump from behind the corner and attack him.

“Mom?”

The whole flat remained silent, busy roads of Brooklyn the only source of sounds. Still, something felt wrong. Really wrong.

“Mom!”

He entered the flat, almost feverishly rushing to his Ma’s room. She was laying peacefully, just as she had been all this time before. However, in no time did Steve notice what was wrong with that picture. Her chest wasn’t moving.

“Mom!”

The whole world went dark and next few hours were a misty mess to him.

There was a feverish urgency in him, a bed and a telephone. There was a calm woman’s voice asking him questions. Later on he remembered people coming to his house. And then there was a gap, sitting in a sterile room the next thing he could think of. His ears caught silent _beep,_ and then another one. Again and again, slowly and at peace. It took him a moment to comprehend all of the situation.

He was at the hospital, sitting in a white, clean room. His mother was right next to him, a monitor showing her weak but steady pulse. She was alive. Oh God, _she was alive._

Something eased inside Steve’s chest,  making him realize how stressed and anxious he had been the whole time. His mom almost died. But he managed to call the ambulance and medical rescuers saved her.

The next thing he remembered, before suddenly falling asleep on the verge of his mom’s bed, was that he felt somewhat bummed out. There was no one at his side to comfort him or someone he could speak to. It was sad. It really was.

 

> **_From:_ ** _[jbbucky@hotmail.com](mailto:jbbucky@hotmail.com)  
>  **Topic:** WHAT??_
> 
> _OH MY GOD, NO WAY!! Man, I’m so sorry to hear you went through such a mess_ _:-(_ _Tho I’m glad your Ma is okay now… How are YOU, though? Like, you wrote me about memory gap and all but how are ya, you know, overall? Stressed? Depressed? Worried? All of these? In moments like this, I wish I lived damn closer so I could be there with you. Dealing with mom’s illness alone must be terrible, pal_ _:-(_

It was incredibly short message but Steve didn’t expect an essay. They signed his mom out only yesterday, three whole days out of touch with Bucky because of his Ma’s state. His insomnia increased, concentration at school dropped and general mood resembled a rollercoaster. He was happy his mother was stable but he felt dejected because of her stay in the hospital.

He didn’t like hospitals. They were always sterile and orderly, which made him feel as if in another dimension. It also felt like everything strictly had its own place there and every change was treated as an awful nuisance. Patients were not allowed to go out, laugh or eat if it wasn’t in the schedule, and if they did, it was an unwelcomed anomaly. Hell, it felt as if people weren’t even allowed to _die_ if it was noncompliant with the planner. If they did, it was more an unpleasant occurrence and error in the schedule than a tragedy _because doctors couldn’t save a life._ Steve hated that and that was the reason why he was so incredibly glad he could finally go home with his mom. Their flat wasn’t the best place for her, he knew that, but it was much cozier and friendlier than the hospital.

Now he was replying to Buck and silently wondering how on Earth did he deserve such a friend like him. Not only was he cool and clever, but also friendly and caring. Steve felt, despite all his inner fears, that Bucky really cared about him and his mom. It was amazing, in a way.

He mentioned that to his mom as he was giving her a cup of tea, wholehearted smile on her features.

“James is such a gentle boy,” she said quietly, her eyes focused on a warm cup in her hands. “Such a friend is a real treasure, Steve.”

“I know,” he replied, smile straying somewhere on his face. “I know that.”

“I wish I could see him again, I remember him as such a vigorous boy. I kind of miss him,” she smiled wider, quickly hiding it in the cup. “I can only imagine how much _you_ miss him.”

“You have _no idea_ ,” Steve somewhat grinned, taking a solid sip from his mug and then putting it aside. “I hate the fact I can’t see him every day. That I can’t, you know, share moments with him? I know what’s going in his life and he knows what’s going on in mine but it’s not the same as being a very part of it.” He sighed and started to play with his fingers a bit, an old habit which couldn’t be got rid of.

“I want to be able to tease him out of the blue or talk to him whenever I feel like it, or listen to him whenever he has something to share. Sending e-mails, even frequently, is not the same.”

“Oh, Steve…” she put her cup aside and opened her arms up so that Steve could lean into a hug. “I’m not a seer but I can tell that you and him are really meant to be. As your mother, I can feel it, Steve. You and him being apart for long is not an option.”

“Thanks, mom.” He smiled into her arm, hugging her tightly and just. Being close to her. Breathing her scent in. Scent of oranges and earl grey. Scent of home.

After a while she let him go, both of them finishing their drinks in no time. Steve headed to his backpack, the vision of economical side of geography not so scary as it had been before.

 

He woke up around five or so, his insomnia kicking in again. It was a strange thing, not being able to sleep at times. Laying wide awake in the middle of a night and not really knowing what to do with yourself.

Steve knew he wouldn’t fall asleep now so he got up and quietly went to the kitchen to put some water on for a tea or coffee. He caught a glimpse on his mom, her silhouette looking almost angelic in the bed sheets.

When water was boiling, he decided on a coffee. A mild one, with a tiny bit of sugar so that his stomach wouldn’t protest out loud. Even though it was unhealthy and his body was highly against it, he liked drinking coffee in the morning. Some people had cigarettes, others had alcohol and Steve had coffee.

He returned to his bedroom and, as there was nothing else to do, he started to sketch. He barely had time for it nowadays but sometimes, when he couldn’t fall asleep or was waking up really early like today, he would just take that special starry sketchbook with poison ivy painted at the bottom out of a drawer. It was, in a strange way, making his tiredness more bearable. Soothing his mind with pleasant memories and connotations.

There was a strange tendency in Steve’s sketch and, what was making it a bit worse, he was perfectly aware of it. The thing was that he usually started with simple doodles. When something was on his mind, he was trying to draw it. And then, in a glimpse of an eye, a whole page was covered in sketches of Bucky. Or maybe rather memories of him. Bucky lolling about on the summer camp, Bucky by the fireplace, Bucky in the river. Sometimes, Steve wondered how much Bucky had changed since last time he saw him. He couldn’t picture it well enough, though. Every sketch of “possible Bucky” was lacking something but Steve couldn’t tell what it was.

And before he could start to wonder why he was drawing his pal so often in the first place, it was already time to get ready to school.

High school was a strange place. It was full of people you wished you didn’t meet and some people you were incredible glad to bump into. If you were born a star of some kind, you really lived out there, in those walls. You were the king of life. However, if you were born something different, you wished for this nightmare to end. Steve was no different in that matter.

He knew a few people who didn’t necessarily dislike him and as much as one person who seemed to like him… And that would be it. He knew school was a place where one should study and become smarter or something but lonely breaks weren’t that nice, especially in such an amount.

That’s why Steve was literally throwing himself into that whole process of learning things, each free moment spent on doing homework. The more he did at school, the less he would have to do at home which meant more time for his mom and sleep. Contrary to appearances, he enjoyed sleeping. It was just hard to enjoy it wholly when insomnia kicked in.

Luckily enough, he didn’t encounter any bullies today and even had a nice chat with Peggy after geography class. She was really kind and even let him invite her for coffee, Steve wanting to repay her for all those hours spent on explaining economical stuff to him.

At the end of an English class, he was even prone to think it was actually a good day.

Right after school he hurried to his part-time job, his supervisor very sensitive about being late and similar matters. He couldn’t recall how good or bad his shift was but that only meant no one yelled at him or inequitably accused him of something. When something like that was happening, he usually remembered that quite well. It was always something to complain about in an e-mail to Bucky.

On his way home, he really was about to call it a good day.

He turned lights on as he came inside, a whole flat strangely silent. He didn’t really noticed that, until he passed his Ma’s bedroom. Only then did it kick in, that something was not right.

She looked okay, as angelic in the artificial light as in a daylight. But something was not right. Her chest wasn’t moving again. And, just as a few days ago, Steve was about to hit the floor because of a sudden rush of panic and anxiety.

Just as a few days ago, he called the ambulance. Just as a few days ago, rescuers came into the flat and told him to move aside. But, unlikely a few days ago, they didn’t take his mother to the hospital.

There was no need for that this time.

Steve was perfectly aware that his mom would eventually die. Probably sooner than later as her state was worsening each day. However, this thought – about his Ma being dead – never really settled in his mind. It was _crossing_ it, going in and out without a physical trace. That was probably the reason why he felt so unprepared and shocked now. So _empty._ Mentally shattered but beyond the possibility of it making an impact on his facial features.

He was always thinking that he would be heartbroken and in tears, the whole thing resembling a nightmare version of the asthma attack. It was nothing like that. He was unbelievably calm, his voice steady and firm. His vision was sharp as ever but at the same time it was lacking something. It felt as if he was watching a hyper realistic movie from the first person perspective but it wasn’t really _him._ Someone was moving his limbs around and using his vocal chords but it was not _him._ He was somewhere far away, in a small room where nothing and no one could do any harm.

In spite of everything being crystal clear, he couldn’t really recall what was happening anymore. One minute he was talking with a doctor about death certificate and the next one he was calling his Ma’s supervisor to inform him about his mom’s death. The next time he looked on a sticky note by the phone there were numbers and crooked notes about funeral even though he didn’t remember planning it at all.

He couldn’t function like that so he decided on drinking some tea to clear his mind and actually focus. However, it took only one spoon of earl grey to make him collapse on the floor and start to shake. Steve couldn’t collect himself, all of his limbs shaking uncontrollably and lungs out of breath. It didn’t resemble an asthma attack, it was worse. It was as if his whole being was falling apart inch by inch, his mind unable to stop that process. He was falling and falling and falling, and he wished he could finally hit the ground. The impact would overwhelm him but it would be a defined end. Now he was in a constant state of uncertainty, only falling and falling and falling. Deeper and deeper into a hole of misery and grief.

Despite knowing how late it was, though he couldn’t really tell what hour it was exactly, he managed to get on his knees and call Bucky. He had sent him his phone number few mails back, so that they could contact in an emergency. By today Steve had that number memorized and honestly, if a mental breakdown because of his mother’s loss wasn’t the emergency, then he couldn’t think of anything more urgent.

No one was picking up the phone for quite some time but when Steve was about to hang up, he heard a well-known voice.

“Hey, what’s up pal?” Bucky greeted him, cheery yet surprised note in his tone. “You actually called!”

“Yea, it’s just…” Steve hesitated, all of his mere confidence gone, his voice starting to tremble. “I think I need to talk with someone.”

“Is that so? What happened?”

“Did I wake you up?” He really wasn’t ready to say those painful words out loud.

“N’aw, not really. But Steve, for real, what’s the matter?”

“It’s just I… don’t feel well.”

“Hey, you need a doc to look at ya?” Bucky’s voice suddenly worried and fully awake, Steve’s guts tightly knotting themselves.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’m sorry I can’t get this right, Buck.”

“Hey, no worries bud,” Bucky reassured him, his tone warm and gentle now. “Take your time.”

“It’s just…” he took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, trying to get his vocal chords to work. “Ma’s passed away.”

He said it. He really did. It sounded so… surreal and unbelievably real at the same time. It made Steve nauseous, suddenly. Besides... He wasn’t sure he was loud enough because no one was responding from the other side for quite a while. So he continued talking, even if all at once he was not in the mood to talk at all.

“That’s actually funny because I knew it would happen one day but it never really kicked in and now I don’t know what to do.” His speech becoming quicker with each spoken word, voice trembling more and more. “I have to organize a funeral and I have no idea how to do it, who to invite, what flowers to choose. I feel so lost, Bucky.” A quiet sob escaped his mouth as he spoke, abruptly interrupting his chain of thoughts. “I’m sorry… I’m just… I…” Another one echoed in the empty flat, followed by the next one and so on, until Steve was nothing more than a curled up, crying child.

He couldn’t talk like that, all those tears and sadness overwhelming him. He said quick good bye to the phone and then hung up, not really waiting for Bucky to answer. Suddenly, he felt so utterly miserable and small, like a duckling left by the duck in a high grass all by itself. Shrilly quacking for help and receiving none.

He didn’t really go to bed or even move from the floor. He was kind of sitting on it, unsuccessfully trying to collect himself. By turns, falling asleep out of fatigue and abruptly waking up to sob even more.

Time was passing by and it took him a while to notice that someone was standing behind front doors, bell ringing on and on. Steve couldn’t tell what was the time but he suspected, by the dim light from behind the windows, that it was around five or six am. Maybe a gloomy seven.

He unsteadily stood up and headed to the door, unexpected guests not really surprising his overstretched self. He was mentally and physically exhausted, somewhat empty inside and barely in touch with reality, the doorbell yet another event in that horrible and never ending day.

He only felt something resembling shock when he actually opened the door and saw who was standing behind it.

“Hi Stevie, may I come in?” Bucky said with a dashing tone, Steve automatically moving aside to let him come inside.

Suddenly, reality hit Steve in the face just like bullies tended to hit him with their right or left crosses; All mist was gone from his perception in no time.

“What are you doing here!?”

“Currently unpacking myself a bit, why?”

“ _Bucky.”_

“You called so I came. To help.” He explained briefly, his icy blues looking at Steve with worry. Only then did Steve realized he probably looked awfully horrible. Red eyes, haggard posture and all. “I’d be earlier but it’s hard to find a good transport from my place.”

“What time is it, anyway?”

“Around seven, probably,” Bucky answered and came up to Steve, hovering over him. “Have you slept, Stevie? Not to be mean but you look kinda shabby.”

“No. Yes. Somewhat.” Steve sighed with exasperation of some kind, lanky hand rubbing those searing and probably swollen eyes of his. “I’m not in the best shape to process everything, okay? Like, the fact you’re actually here is just. Wow.”

“Thanks, I guess.” Bucky sent him a crooked smile, a thing so well known to Steve’s memory it hurt. “Sure, my visit is rather unexpected but, listen pal. You’re in need and I wouldn’t be a good friend if I left you all by yourself with this thing.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. When he called Bucky, he expected nothing. Only a more or less careful listener, maybe. The fact that his pal decided to come all this way and _help him,_ whatever Bucky had in mind under it, was overwhelming. In a good way.

After a while Steve collected himself enough, somehow, to talk a few things through with Buck. To make coffee for them both and a moderate breakfast, too. Usually, Steve would be going off to school in half an hour or so. Today was not a usual day. One absence would cause no real harm to his grades and, beside that, he was exhausted. Bucky probably was, too. Steve didn’t want to think how long and how much money it took his friend to actually show up at his doorstep. Not to mention skipping his own school, too.

They ate, talked a bit, and then Bucky announced it was time to wind down. At least physically wise. Steve was not sure he would be able to just go to bed and sleep well but his pal was steely. However, what surprised Steve, was Bucky’s concept of bed. As soon as he entered Steve’s bedroom he threw all pillows and blankets on the floor, creating a fort of some kind, bringing cushions from the couch as well. It resembled a bed from a few years back, when both of them were still innocent kids and Bucky was staying at Steve’s.

The memory of it made Steve smile, actually. To Bucky’s relief and gratification, apparently.

As they were laying side by side, something eased inside of Steve. He couldn’t precise what it was but it was easier to fall asleep because of it. Just as if Bucky’s presence was a painkiller to his anxiety, a tape gluing all those shattered pieces of his being back together.

He fell asleep in no time, his mind dreamless but calm.

 

Judging by the light, he couldn’t sleep for too long. Nevertheless, he was feeling much better than before. His perception worked better, too. After all, it only took him few seconds to notice what position he and Buck ended up in.

He was curled up on his side, while Bucky’s arm was flung over him, keeping him close. There were only inches between his and his friend’s faces but, strangely enough, Steve didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable. He felt intrigued. It’d been three years since he last saw Bucky and now, he thought with his sleepy mind, he had a great opportunity to see how much his friend had changed.

He had grown taller, obviously, but other changes were more subtle. Bucky’s jaw had become firmer, a stumble well seen from Steve’s perspective. His cheekbones were sharper than Steve had remembered them and his face was overall more… dapper. More masculine and less pudgy. It seemed as if all negative aspects of puberty omitted him, no sign of acne or unsymmetrical growth to be seen. In other words, Bucky was actually telling the truth in last e-mail. He _really_ was handsome.

Steve was still laying on his side, under Bucky’s arm, looking at his friends face in the quietness of the afternoon. There was something mesmerizing in that moment, an unknown voice luring Steve’s mind to lean in closer. And closer. And closer. Until their lips were touching…

Steve instantly froze in place, cautiously recoiling from sleeping Bucky. It wasn’t right. Whatever it was just a second ago, that _was not right._ He carefully unfettered from Bucky’s embrace and quietly got out of the bedroom, heading to the bathroom. Maybe cool shower will clean his mind. He really hoped for that.

Under the stream of cold water Steve was standing and wondering, what was that previous situation all about. He had _never_ thought about something like that before. It was completely new to him… But was that for sure? Steve was perfectly aware that he was nothing compared to Bucky. He was short, gaunt and often impulsive. His friend was tall, flawless and charming. They were total opposites. They were _friends_.

Maybe he still was somewhat asleep in that moment. Or sad. Or lonely. Longing for warm of another human’s body. Maybe, unconsciously, sexually frustrated. He still didn’t fully figure out things with Peggy. It could be a side effect of his treatment, too. Being hypnotized by adorably unkempt dark hair and aquiline facial features didn’t necessarily mean what Steve firstly thought they could. He took a deeper breath and slowly exhaled, a strange feeling in his chest. It wasn’t a typical feeling for side effects nor an anxiety of some sort. It was something different. Something simultaneously heartwarming, kind of crawly, and longing. He had no idea what it was and he decided he had more important things to worry about. So he brushed it off, trying to focus on here and now.

After all, he and Bucky had a hell of a job to do.

When the other one woke up, they drunk coffee, talked a bit and decided on what had to be done. Steve was responsible for meeting pastor and calling people to inform them about upcoming funeral while Bucky had to take care of technical stuff. Then they split, each focusing on their tasks. At the end of a day everything was set, Sunday morning an official end to the things.

It was only late Friday evening, slowly turning into night but Steve really appreciated Bucky’s presence. It was easier to handle everything, both metaphorically and literally. He was a great help in organizing and planning, he was ready to listen Steve’s complaints all the time and, what’s also important, he was constantly cheering him up and giving advices.

And now they were sitting on a couch, mugs with tea in their hands, funeral tomorrow’s morning.

“No, but for real Stevie, I don’t think military is my thing.” Bucky said with exasperation, this subject apparently touchy. “What’s even worse, it means moving out. To _fucking Europe.”_

Oh, that was new.

“…Europe?”

“He told me that not long before you called that night,” he explained, fingers tightening around the mug. “He wants me to graduate and then move to France or England, I don’t even remember where. He insists on that military fucking academy because it’s _convenient_ for him. I can be left there and he can go wherever and whenever he wishes. For God’s sake.”

“Is that so…” Steve didn’t really know what to say. The very thought of Bucky being so far away made him feel sick, all at once. However, suddenly he remembered that strange feeling from yesterday’s morning. Something twisted inside of him on the very memory of it. “But, you know… I think if I were you, I’d go for it.”

“Huh? Why?”

Because I’m scared of my feelings, he wanted to reply.

“I think it’s a chance,” he started slowly, carefully choosing his words. “Europe sounds amazing and you never know what’s waiting for you up there. Maybe you’ll hate that place with all of your heart but maybe you’ll finally feel at home there.”

He stopped to take a sip of his earl grey, his own heart falling into small pieces the longer he spoke. He didn’t want that. He didn’t want Bucky to go to Europe. He wanted him to stay. With him. But, at the same time, he was so, so scared of it.

“It’s not like you’ll be stuck there forever, I guess. Maybe after some time you’ll decide on going back but with more experience or something. What I’m trying to say is to take that shot.”

“But that would mean I won’t be able to see you for God knows how long.” Bucky mentioned, Steve’s heart shattering even more.

“I know,” he admitted, his eyes now focused on icy blues. “But don’t try to tell me you’re going to get rid of me as soon as you enter the airplane.”

“Oh, you wish,” Bucky snorted. “I ain’t that easy to give air to me, you know. I guess you’ll be drowning in postcards and letters, and e-mails from me, pal.”

“Sounds fair to me.” Steve smiled, even though his insides felt as if they were rotting. “So you’ll be in Europe, getting to know the world and all, while I’ll try to get by. Find a full time job after graduating. Maybe save up some cash if I’m able to. Sounds like a plan, don’t ya think?”

“Kinda.” Bucky shrugged, finishing his tea. “A lousy plan, though.”

“Hey! I can get by on my own, Buck.”

“The thing is, you don’t have to.” He pointed out, meaningful look on his features. “If there is ever a problem, you know who to call.”

“I’m sure as hell you gonna give me a French phone number so I can wake you up in the middle of a night _again._ ” Steve rolled his eyes, but he knew what Bucky tried to say. And he appreciated it.

He really did.                                                                                                                                                                              

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, it's me again!  
> As I promised, things start to get more complicated and less fluffy. Unfortunately or not, I have a thing for angst.
> 
> I want to wish everyone Happy Valentines Day and thank you for staying this long with me ♡ ♡ ♡
> 
> And also loud THANK YOU to my [beta](https://twitter.com/sapereauso), as always!


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